Just A Blast From The Past
by InNeedOfInspiration
Summary: Natasha watches Steve die and decides to use a time travel device from Asgard to go back in 1942 and prevent Bucky from turning into the Winter Soldier. Forbidden to meddle with the past because it could affect the future, she changes her appearance and introduces herself under a false identity. But as they grow close, Natasha finds it harder and harder to resist the charm of Steve
1. Chapter 1

It all happened so fast anyone would say. But not to her; not through her always admired her acute sight in the red room; her ability to depict every detail no matter how rapid the sequence of movements could be.

'You have a gift, Natalia,' they used to tell her. But her gift never felt more like a curse that in this exact moment.

Natasha was on the ground, immobilized by the weight of metal bars squeezing the lower part of her body. She watched as Steve took over her brawl against the Winter Soldier. She tried to pull herself out of the metal trap while punches were thrown between the two former best friends who had now become enemies.

Then she saw it. She clearly saw, and in every tiny detail, the Winter Soldier pull the gun out of his leather case and aim it at Steve who had his back to him. She saw his finger press the trigger without a hint of hesitation , the bullet spurt out of the barrel, cut through the air then finally lodge itself into her teammate's abdomen before her aghast eyes.

Steve staggered, one hand clutching his open wound, then slump onto the floor. The Winter Soldier didn't bat an eyelid, shot a glance in her direction then walked out of the room in a mechanical gait.

She turned her attention back to Steve who was now gasping penibly, his chest jerking with the rhythm of his muscle spasms.

Natasha used all her strength to release her legs from the bars.

'No, no, no, no,' she whispered alarmingly to herself as she ran up to him as fast as possible.

She swiftly fell to her knees and held his face.

His flickering eyes fell on her and regained a spark. He tried to speak but a faint stuttering came out of his mouth.

She lifted her wrist to her mouth.

'Cap is down! I repeat, Cap is down!' she cried into her transmitter, breathing heavily. 'Requesting medical support urgently and immediate extraction.'

Steve slightly shook his head in response to her S.O.S call.

She slid her arm under his neck and lifted his upper body onto her lap. She pressed her hand on the bleeding wound, watching helplessly as the scarlet blood slipped between her fingers in profusion. She then glanced around the room for a piece of cloth close enough to her reach so she wouldn't have to leave his side.

'Hold on, Steve,' she groaned forcefully, looking away so he wouldn't see the anguish of being wrong in her eyes. 'The help is coming.'

He shook his head again.

'I-I never thought it would end like this,' he eventually stuttered. 'Not because of Bucky.'

His words cut her heart open with a thick blade.

'It's not the end yet, Steve,' she groaned. 'I won't let you go.'

Her palm pressed the wound even harder through the soaked fabric of his uniform.

His eyes stared at the ceiling with less life than a few moments ago.

'There are so ma-many things I now wish I had said sooner,' he stammered with difficulty.

He looked at her again. In spite of the pain, he managed to put a weak smile on his face.

'No,' she groaned hardly. 'Don't you die on me, Rogers.'

'You,' he continued with a serene look.

She shook her head vehemently, forbidding herself to listen to any more of his goodbye words.

'Steve,' she pleaded, tears filling up her eyes. 'Please, don't give up.'

She cupped his jaw and stroked his pale skin with her fingers.

His eye dived deep into hers.

'I-I need to say it to you before…' he paused as he gathered a new breath in his lungs. She leaned down towards him, her face a few inches apart from his therefore conceding to hear, although she hadn't accepted it yet, were his final words.

'Nat, I…' she waited for him to gather enough strength to let out the following words but nothing other than a heavy silence followed.

'Steve?' she called. She slightly pulled away to take a look at him. His pupils turned still as she watched the last light of life die out. 'Steve? Steve!' she cried desperately, her voice raising up an octave every new time she called his name. 'Please Steve, don't!' she begged him.

A tear rolled down to her chin before falling onto Steve's dry and blueish lips.

Her heart ached more than she would have believed it possible. She had seen so many companions fall during missions, but oh God, how painful this one was.

Her chest shook up as sobs forced their way out. For the first time, she yielded to her emotions and burst into tears. She leaned down over him, crying into his neck, shielding him from any further harm with her body.

The funeral was much more tedious than she expected it to be. Every Avenger was mourning or silently feeding pointless resentments.

Unsurpsingly, many people attended his burial. Too many. And although the Avengers respected Steve's request to have an open funeral if something went wrong, authorities still had to be deployed to manage then scatter the heavy crowd. America grieved the loss of its Captain, of its first Avenger, of its best soldier.

Natasha was mentally worn out. She attended the funeral only because Clint told her to do it.

'You were not there,' she had muttered to him sharply, more like a reproach than a statement. 'I was.'

'I know,' Clint had whispered with a weak nod. 'But you owe him proper goodbyes, Nat. You owe it to him. To yourself.'

She stood before the coffin, at the front row usually reserved for family and special guests. All the Avengers were there. She guessed it had to mean something about who they were to him.

Stark was wearing an expensive dark suit but his face was emotionless. Frighteningly emotionless. He let his features twitch from time to time and always squeezed Pepper's hand with more strength every time it happened Natasha noticed.

Clint and Bruce were less visible than all the others but still silently mourning their teammate.

Thor was there too. He had come from Asgard as soon as Heimdall informed him that one his earthling companion had ceased to live. Tony had first handed him a suit to wear for the funeral but Thor had declined the offer saying he would rather the traditional Asgardian mourning suit as he considered he should pay Steve the respects any of his closest friend from Asgard would deserve if they perished.

An old woman was sitting on a wheelchair next to agent Sharon Carter, clutching to her cotton handkerchief. Some time she sobbed Steve's into it, some time she looked all around the assembly seeming to legitimately ask herself who they were and what she was doing here with them.

After the funeral, all the Avengers returned to the Tower. Everything seemed the same except that it was all different. They had left a piece of them behind in the cemetery. What were the Avengers without who was the soul of the team? She doubted it had any future. They probably all thought so, too but none of them could be bothered to bring up the subject. The Avengers were soon to become a memory.

Natasha shuffled her way to her private apartments. She took off her heels then lied down in her bed, finding inner stillness in listening to the void.

The next morning, Thor vanished back to Asgard only to return a week later.

'I made some research and I have found something which could provide the best help we could ever hope for,' he told everyone in Tony's lab. He showed an object that wasn't bigger than a coin.

'A penny?' Tony joked humorlessly.

'It's a powerful device,' Thor protested quite placidly given the situation. 'It can make anyone who wears it travel back in time.'

The Avengers all shared conniving looks. It was pretty obvious what purpose this device could serve.

'Does it work?' Tony asked as he tried to moderate the hope and enthusiasm in his voice.

'I believe so,' Thor said with a nod. 'It is part of an old Asgardian legend but I believe it will work.'

Tony showed his discontent by stepping away.

'Legends are fairy tales,' he said.

Thor looked at him sternly and somewhat offended.

'Legends in Asgard are more of Ancient stories than fairy tales,' he corrected him.

'Ancient?' Banner repeated, taking off his glasses. 'So you want to use this ancient device on one of us?'

Thor pointed to him.

'No, Dr Banner. I want to bring Captain Rogers back and I believe our legends to be true.'

'How does it work?' Clint stepped in, making the most intelligent and constructive remark so far.

'The person who decides to use it has to wear this on the temple. He or she will be sent through time to the day they wish to reach.'

'So the person who will do it will have to change the events in order to keep Cap from being shot?' Tony asked.

'No,' Natasha finally spoke up. 'It's too risky. Circumstances were not weighing in our favour that day. We need to go further back.'

They all turned to her.

'How far are we talking exactly?' Bruce asked reluctantly. They all knew he already suspected what the answer would be.

'The Winter Soldier killed Cap, right?' Clint said. 'How about we make sure he never exists?'

'1942,' Natasha murmured to herself with a nod.

Tony's interest was piqued again. He found the idea tangible.

'We save Barnes from the clutches of Hydra and we save Steve,' he summed up with a newly gained confidence.

A silence followed during which the teammates exchanged approving glances. This sounded like the start of a solid plan.

'Who is going to do it?' Bruce asked.

Thor and Tony opened their mouths, ready to speak up. Natasha, with her keen eyes, saw it coming and beat them to it.

'I'll do it,' she said, rising from her seat.

Clint immediately looked at her with an expression that blatantly displayed his lack of surprise but also his extreme concern. He wanted to stop her, she could tell.

'Nat,' he started.

'Thor can't leave Asgard, Stark has to look affter the team and he's got Pepper, you have a family and a farm. I have none of that,' she said with an outstandingly convincing logic. 'Plus, it'll be easier for me to approach Steve and Barnes without raising suspicions. I'll win their trust to stay close enough and I'll work in the dark without ever being suspected.'

She never enjoyed the thought of being in a sexist society so useful to her decoy.

'Wait,' Clint tempered. 'This is going too fast.'

He turned to Thor. 'How do we even know she won't combust into mush?'

She wanted to huff. This was the least of her concern. 'And can she even come back?' he continued.

Thor pursed his lips.

'I cannot tell for sure. It's an Ancient legend. We don't have any form of trace of someone who traveled back in time and returned. But I presume it is a portal who can be taken from either direction.'

'You presume?' Clint repeated with a frown like he had just heard the biggest inanity ever voiced out loud in a public place.

The two men started a fiery conversation on the definition of a presumption but Natasha had stopped listening long ago. She couldn't care less about the possible risks and the probable issues of this plan. Here was her chance to save Steve like she had told him she would.

The time travel was planned for the next day. A few calls had to be made to prepare Natasha's arrival in the 1940s. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't have been founded yet and wouldn't be able to provide any financial or armed support. Fury helped greatly in the matter. He called back a couple of hours after hearing the Avengers' plan and communicated the bank details of an account belonging to the secret service used in emergency cases since the end of the First World War. Anyone detaining those details would therefore get open access to an unlimited amount of cash. Although Nick Fury wouldn't technically be born until nearl a decade, his influence knew no year limit it appeared.

After discussing the final details, the Avengers parted to their respective apartments with the convinction they had elaborated a subtancial plan. They even allowed themselves to hope it would work.

Clint came to her room later that night. He sat on the bed next to her, quiet and yet extremely forthcoming about the purpose of his visit.

He reached for her hand and held it gently.

'You don't have to do this,' he eventually whispered.

She stared in the dark for a few seconds.

'I do, Clint,' she murmured, squeezing back his hand. 'I owe it to him. To me.'

He didn't protest any more after that. They both sat in the dark, holding hands, for the most part of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Natasha woke up in a lighter mood than the one she had been carrying like a burden for the past two weeks. She smiled at the prospect of this hopeful day.

She spent her morning reading through old reports and memorizing all the data that could be useful to know in 1942. Her carnivorous brain devoured every piece of information like it had been trained to since her early age. She learned every bit of detail about where, when and how Hydra was taken down by Steve. She assimilated everything that needed to be known about Barnes' life and the circumstances of his death. She now knew him more than Steve did; much more when you consider she was aware of his future.

After several hours, she headed to the bathroom and dyed her hair blond. Thor, Stark and Banner had been very clear: she was not to leave any physical evidence of her existence in the 1940s.

'You don't exist. You're just a ghost,' Stark had said. This was easy. She had spent most of her life being one. She would only leave behind a myth to resonate in people's heads like the scariest dream. The assassin. The Black Widow.

'You're nothing more than a chimera,' Bruce had chimed in. She had liked this comparison. There was a poetic and beautiful connotation to it; she liked the prospect of becoming a benevolent force that would inspire trust and hope. She relished the idea of wearing a coat she had never been offered a chance to put on before. She enjoyed the thought of being given a whole new ledger to write into; an immaculate one she would make sure to never stain.

Natasha was not particularly fond of this hair color but she had to maximize her chances to blend in then sneak out of Steve's life without him ever keeping a vivid memory of this blond woman he briefly met in 1942. Plus, she knew for a fact that he was more into brunettes which would make even less noticeable. Changing appearance was the key to succeed in her undercover mission and keep a low profile. Steve would have soon forgotten about her after she had gone.

She washed her hair in the washstand and looked at herself in the mirror. She had worn blond wigs before for numerous missions but she was amazed by how this shade of blond gave her complexion a slight but noticeable variation. Her brighter skin enhanced the green of her eyes and made them more prominent than they usually were with her red hair.

She wore a vintage cocktail dress that Stark had had delivered urgently over the night. A piece of clothing that wouldn't draw the attention on her when she would arrive in the past –well, if she arrived. This was a matter she refused to look into; and even less address.

Natasha made her out of her apartment to the common room where everyone was waiting.

Fury had come out for the occasion and was conversing with Thor and Stark.

They all froze at the sight of her baffling makeover when she walked in the room. There was no denying the situation was getting real and that there was no coming back.

'Are you sure about this, Romanoff?' Fury asked as he walked up to her.

'Am I sure I want to bring Captain Rogers back, sir?' She stood firm and square.

He eyed her with an assertive look.

'Captain Rogers...or Steve?' he said to her in a lower voice. He tried to catch a responsive twitch from her then stepped away just as quickly.

This was another matter she refused to look into or address. Steve, Captain America; every persona of him was needed back into this world.

After setting up the last arrangements and going through the details of the mission one last time, the awaited moment to put the plan into motion arrived.

The Avengers all made their way to a quiet area of Central Park. Thor had made it clear she had to depart from a location that would exist in the past already. She couldn't do it in the Stark tower and take the risk to land under asphalt concrete, or through a wall. She would be traveling through time but not through space which was why it was vital to ensure she would land safe and sound in a place that wouldn't have been altered whatsoever. Central Park popped up as the most evident choice.

They were now all standing in the middle of an unfrequented trail framed by high and leafy oaks.

They all looked at eaach other. Goodbyes were the final step before triggering the mission.

Banner came up to her first and smiled awkwardly. She smiled too. His social skills were as poor as his science research were brilliant. Bruce had always been better at handling lab instruments than people. Him becoming the Hulk only widened the gap between the latter and himself.

Stark followed.

'Make us proud, Romanoff,' he said lightly as he put a surprisingly brotherly hand on her shoulder.

'I wish I could hammer you with it for the rest of your life once it's all over but alas you won't remember any of it.'

He fondly smiled at her. 'Isn't life cruel?'

He stepped away but then halted and turned to point to her. 'Seriously though, Romanoff. Tell us _everything_ when you come back. At least tell me, I promise you I'll buy the whole time travel to save the Cap's neck story.'

It was good to see Tony going back to his bad habits.

Maria Hill came up and gently held her elbow.

'Good luck,' she said warmly, paused for a few seconds, then went on to check the perimeter was secure.

Fury stepped up to her with a smirk on.

'I could probably tell you you were my best agent but I won't because that would mean this is a goodbye. I count on you to prove me right and come back.' He put his hands on each side of her shoulders and allowed the hint of a smile to make an appearance. This was the closest he had ever been to show his respect and his affection. 'It's an order.'

'Thank you,' she answered, almost bashful but extremely proud.

Clint was the last. He stood there, watching her silently with a hard frown that inevitably softened.

'I wish I were mad at you but I'm not,' he said with a smirk then pulled her in for a hug.

She wrapped her arms around him, clutching to his shoulders to collect all the strength she would need to go through this mission. Only two people in her life had this power to breathe heroism and nobility into her. One was Clint, the other had passed away one week earlier.

She had kept telling everyone she wanted to bring Steve back for the team, for people, but really, she was mostly bringing her back for her. Because he had always inspired to act like a hero; to do the right thing. And look now, even dead, he had emboldened her to be a hero and sacrifice herself to travel to the unknown. She needed him around to keep doing those beautiful things.

'I'm so proud of you,' Clint whispered into her ear as if he had understood it too. He didn't see it but it raised a genuine smile on her lips. Both couldn't ignore the fact that this might be the last time they'd ever see each other.

'Take care of yourself while I'm away,' she teased with a sneer. 'You know I won't be around to save your neck this time again.'

He chuckled lightly.

'Just come back, okay?' he whispered.

'You don't trust me?' she answered.

He pulled away to look her in the eye.

'It's that rusty lapel pin I don't trust.'

He turned his head to look in Thor's direction. 'Offense intended.'

The Asgardian God furrowed his brows.

"What is this lapel pin, exactly?' he asked so sternly for such a ridiculous object it made the two spies smile.

Clint turned his attention back to his friend. He leaned in again and put a kiss on her forehead; a gesture he only kept for his wife and his children. And now her. She bit her bottom lip to hold back the tears that were threatening to make their way up to her eyes.

They shared a smile then he pulled himself away to let Thor step in.

The semi-God held the round metallic object between his thumb and his index.

'Keep this device preciously,' he spoke calmly. She nodded thoroughly.

He asked her to tilt her head and stuck the chip on her temple. He then invited her to seat herself on the bench behind them.

He sat beside her.

Clint, Stark, Fury and Banner were standing in front of them, watching closely with a rising anguish.

She took a deep breath in. 'And now?' she asked.

'The device should work like what you humans call video games.'

He earned a frown from both Clint and Tony.

'You're going to have to use your hands to navigate through time. You brushed them to the left if you wish to move forward, you brush them to the right if you want to move back.'

She nodded. It sounded pretty simple. She had maneuvered far more complicated technologies.

'Remember you cannot alter the past more than you are aimed to do. All the rest has to remain the same.'

She nodded again. Honestly, she was at a loss of words at this moment.

'How do I activate it?' she asked.

'You just have to mentally want it.'

Clint nervously shifted position and crossed his arms against his chest. Tony held back his breath a bit longer than he should have.

Thor put his hand on her shoulder.

'You are one of the bravest warriors I ever had the honor to fight alongside, Natasha Romanoff. I put all my faith in you.'

She welcomed his compliment with all the appreciation it deserved and valued his voluntary omission of the word 'woman' in his statement. Thor dressed and spoke like he came from an older time but he was far more modern than half the men ruling this world.

He removed his hand and all looked at her intently.

She let out a long and calm inspiration as she closed her eyes and mentally requested to switch the chip on. When she opened them again, her friends were still standing there but everything looked different. Every shade of color around her was enhanced, more vivid, but also trembling as in on the verge to fade away if she decided so. She lifted her hands in front of her, palms faced outside. She could touch and feel space between her fingers. The air had a consistence, the rays of sun falling onto her hands felt like a warm carress on her skin, the flying pollen bumped against her palms. Every thing around her had become tangible.

She gently swayed her fingers in a bewildering dance with the space surrounding her.

Her teammates were still watching her quizzically as they endeavored to figure out what she was possiby gazing that was invisible to them.

She then swiftly waved her hands to the right and sensed as she literally pushed the entirity of this world away.

Her friends immediately vanished off her sight and she watched, still sitting on her bench, as people walked backwards before her without aknowledging her presence to the least. She watched the night take over the day, then the day take over the night. Complete strangers brushed past her in a flash: an old man feeding the birds, two teenagers kissing secretely, a dog running after a squirrel and its owner calling its name while running behind.

Everything sped up as she mentally asked for it and, this time, her eyes could only perceive the repeatitive alternance of days and nights; of sunny, rainy and snowy weathers flashing through in front of her.

'1942,' she hammered repeatedly like a chanting.

After many seconds of flickering views, it started to slow down and she noticed the passersby were now dressed in another fashion than one she had ever been in. The men were wearing long coats, vests with large ties and fedora hats. Women who passed before her had the same kind of dresses than the one she was wearing except they looked far more vintage and authentic than hers would ever be.

Everything slowed down more and more until it finally stopped. She raised her hands again and felt the neww environment displayed in front of her go back to being impalpable and vivid colors return to their tamer selves. She dropped her hands and looked around her. The journey had reached its end.

She smiled to herself: it was official, she hadn't combusted into mush.

The sun was high in the sky like a moment ago when her friends were still there with her. The trail and the bench looked pretty much the same as before except the latter seemed less timeworn, if that made any sense. Her chip suddenly an inexplicably dropped off her temple when it had been strongly stuck to it until now and fell on the fabric of her dress.

She looked at it curiously then picked it up between her fingers. She stood up and looked around. There wasn't the trace of a living soul around. She put the chip into the pocket of her dress and breathed in the fresh air.

It was time to find out if she was in the good year.

She ran up the trail as fast as she would if she were running after a target.

She soon got out of Central park and headed towards the nearest form of civilization. The traffic was as heavy as you would expect it to be in New York City but the cars were different. Encouragingly different. But it wasn't a good reason to rejoice yet.

She ran across the road to the booth newspapers placed at the end of the street. She halted swiftly when she reached it and looked at the pape displayed before her with a pounding heart.

 _December 11, 1942_

Her mouth released a sob of relief she had been afraid to let out too early and she held her hand up to her chest.

Never the sight of a date had brought such an intense mix of bliss, alleviation and hope. Nothing could possibly go wrong now that she had achieved made it through the biggest chunk of the equation. Finding Steve and saving Barnes from his fate sounded like a piece of cake in comparison. She had had far more dangerous missions.

'Miss, are you alright?' the large man standing behind of the booth asked with genuine concern.

She detached her eyes from the printed date with difficulty and looked at him.

'I am, now,' she said softly.

The man looked her up and down then resumed to tidying up his diplay.

Natasha turned her attention back to the date and the headline put in capital letters.

 _NAZIS CONTINUE REIGN OF TERROR ACROSS EUROPE_

Today was Friday, she still had time to go get cash from the secret services' hidden bank acount.

'Excuse me,' she called the large man. 'Do you know how I can get to the _Bank of New York_ from here?'

He shook his thumb to the right.

'It's a few blocks away in this direction. It's a big building, you can't miss it.'

She thanked him and walked in the direction he was showing her.

She treaded the streets like they were all unknwown to her, paying attention to every person trotting past her. She paid attention to their gait, their demeanor, to the details of women's outfits so that she could copy their style but also to the buildings and the cars. It was like watching old photographs taking life. Natasha felt like the odd one out among all these passersby who fitted naturally in this world.

She turned round the corner and waited for the light to turn red when a paper stuck onto the wall on her right caught her attention.

She carefully stepped up to it as she recognized the familiar features printed on the poster. Her heartbeat geared up again.

 _DON'T MISS OUT CAPTAIN AMERICA'S LAST SHOW TONIGHT BEFORE NATIONAL TOUR_

 _Friday 12th - 7 p.m_

She choked. It was him. The uniform did look more like a ridiculous cosplay than an actual military uniform; the shield was nothing more than a laughable wooden kite shield that would have been stolen all the way from Middle-Age; the hair was old-fashioned as its finest, the posture greatly lacked confidence and toughness, but it was _him_. The one and only, Captain Steve Rogers. Or here, musical show idol Captain America she should say.

Her fingers instinctively reached for his face on the paper as she felt the knot which had been occupying her stomach for two long weeks slowly start to untangle itself.

'I'm coming for you,' she whispered completely stunned, grazing the paper gently.


	3. Chapter 3

The newsstand man was right. The bank was unmissable. It stood prominently on the street.

Natasha pushed the door and walked inside with quiet steps, her heels tapping the tiles hardly making a sound. A spy habit she had had as far as she could remember. This was why the receptionist who was looking down at his paperwork didn't notice her standing across the counter.

She cleared her throat to make her presence known.

The receptionist, a man in his early twenties, lifted his head slowly and gaped at her sight.

'May I help you?' he asked clearly his throat and rearranging his tie as a nervous twitch.

'Yes,' she smiled more than it was necessary to obtain what she wanted even more easily. 'I wish to speak with the director, Mr Kent.'

His slightly mouth opened in surprise.

'Of course! Allow me to call him,' he answered quickly whilst he picked up the phone.

'Who shall I announce?' he asked.

She put her arm on the counter as she prepared to recite what had been Fury's instructions.

'Just tell him I would like to discuss the terms of my banking contract.'

The young man repeated her exact words then hung up.

'Mr Kent is on his way,' he said to her.

She glimpsed at the name pinned onto his shirt.

'Thank you, Peter,' she smiled charmingly, making him gulp as a unique response, then she stepped away.

A few seconds later, a tall and stern man came down the marble stairs and walked up to her. He looked at her with a composed and professional gaze then shook her hand.

'If you want to follow me, please,' he said. They made the same way he had just done before but in the opposite direction. After reaching the top of the stairway, he turned right to a big door.

He reached for the knob then invited her with a polite but mostly reverent gesture to step in first. He waved a hand to the seat and walked round his desk to sit on his thick leather armchair after she sat down first.

He crossed his hands over his desk and leaned forward, looking her up and down as he probably tried to spot a detail that would give out the real purpose of her visit.

'Which terms would you like to discuss exactly?' he asked calmly.

The whole conversation was going just like colonel Fury had described it would. She crossed her legs and watched him intently and with all the confidence in the world.

'Terms 241-a and 573-c. Account number 926547813,' she answered.

Mr Kent's features changed slightly but much enough for her to notice. His look communicated a completely other form of professionalism as if her words had brought out a second persona that he kept hidden in the dark and would only reveal to his fellow co-workers.

He rose to his feet and walked to the landscape painting hanging on the side wall. He pulled it open like a window and proceeded to enter a combination in the safe concealed in the wall behind.

He pulled an envelope out, closed the safe and put the frame back to its original position. He sat on his armchair again and put the envelope on the desk, gently pushing it over to her with his finger.

Natasha remained still and composed acting like the secret agent she was, even if it was from another time. She took a glimpse at the envelope and evaluated there amount to be of fifty grands by the thickness of it.

She looked back at the director.

'Thank you,' she said with a conniving smile.

'There is a key inside. 37 East 64th Street, 4th floor,' he said. 'Feel free for the duration of your stay. Just leave the key to the concierge when you decide to vacate the apartment. Is there anything else you would need?'

She smiled again. Everything went according to the plan. And 'discretion' and 'rapidity' seemed to be the main keywords.

'No. I got everything I wanted.'

She stood up and put the envelope in her pocket. 'Thank you for help, Mr Kent.'

He nodded politely then walked her back to the main hall.

'No need to say my visit here never happened,' she spoke softly with a little smirk as they went down the stairs.

Mr Kent tilted his head and furrowed his brows. 'What visit?'

And here she became the chimera.

Natasha glanced at the big clock hanging above the exit. She had a bit less than three hours before the beginning of the show.

She rushed out on the sidewalk and hailed a cab.

The taxi took her to a fancy store on the Fifth Avenue. Her priority right now was to blend in and, judging by people's glances on the street, the vintage dress that Stark had had delivered still wasn't vintage enough for 1942.

She got in the shop and looked round. She found everything she needed within her reach. Suits, formal and evening dresses, skirts and blouses, but also coats, shoes and other accessories; there was enough in this room to compose her wardrobe for the next weeks she planned on spending here.

Her eyes fell on an elegant black knee-length dress displayed on the mannequin. The skirt part flared was made of a soft and light fabric that slightly flared under the waits while the chest, the shoulders and the arms were covered with refined lace.

'May I help you?' the sales assistant came up to her. She shot a mildly dismayed glanced at the dress she was wearing. 'You had one job, Stark,' Natasha thought, mentally rolling her eyes.

'Would it be possible to try on this dress?' she asked, pointing to the dummy.

The woman grinned with all her teeth, happy to find a customer who could afford her best item. She complied readily and accompanied her to the fitting room.

Natasha stepped out a couple of minutes later and looked in the full length mirror. She nearly gasped in shock. The dress did not disappoint. It looked actually ten times better than how she had pictured it in her head. The fabric molded her curves perfectly without being suggestive. As she watched herself in her mirror, she felt for the first time since she arrived like she actually fitted in this world.

'I'll take it,' she said as she turned to look at the back of the dress.

The sales assistant hardly contained her enthusiasm.

'Fantastic! You look stunning in it,' she stated with what could only be honesty now that the deal was sealed.

'Is it for your husband? Or a special man, perhaps?' she asked.

Natasha paused and gently slid her hands down the fabric.

'It might be,' she murmured softly. Her mission was definitely to get close to Steve. She had to pique his interest in order to do so. Not in a conspicuous way that would scare him off, but in a subtle and intellectual way.

The sales assistant smiled.

'Trust me. That will catch his eye.'

Natasha couldn't hope for a better outcome. She turned to the employee.

'Do you mind if I take a look around. I might need a couple more things.'

The sales assistant grinned like she had just witnessed the Second Coming.

Natasha walked out of the shop with about a dozen of full bags. Or maybe more. She had stopped counting after a while. The sales assistant forbid herself to yield to the seizure out of happiness that threatened to burst out throughout the purchase to focus on packing all the articles put on her counter instead. Shoes, coats, dresses, skirts, scarves and gloves and purses; nothing was missing and the woman exulted at the prospect of having to restock her inventory.

Natasha hailed a cab and asked the driver to drive her to a salon nearby.

She spent half an hour there as the hairdresser meticulously styled her hair up in a way that was fashionable and contemporary.

When she finally reached East 64th Street it was already dark and the show was to begin an hour time.

She got in the elevator all the way up to the fourth floor. The apartment was spacious and pretty luxurious without being showy. She dropped the shopping bags on bed and went to the window. People were walking on the sidewalk unconsciously following the rhythm of the traffic. It was a moment of stillness for her before returning to her frantic pace.

She closed the curtains and went to have a shower.

When Natasha stepped out of the cab and looked at the neon letters shining in red, blue and white colors in honor of tonight's show, she felt a lump tighten up in her throat.

The idea of being minutes away from seeing Steve made her more nervous than she had been all day (even before using the time travel device).

She took a deep breath in and stepped into the venue. Couples, but mostly women were chatting and laughing loudly all around her. She went to the cash office and looked at the man sitting behind the glass, his feet on the desk while smoking a cigarette.

'One ticket for the Captain America show,' she said. She had a hard time processing the words she had just voiced out loud. Captain America the Avenger, who was here no more than a cabaret entertainer. Definitely something you had to witness to believe.

The man lazily took his feet down and tore a leaf off of the little notebook put in front of him.

He wrote a number on it and slid it on the counter. She paid and strongly grasped the piece of paper in her hands for fear of losing it as she made her way towards the main room.

A quiet corridor on her left leading to an open door caught her attention. The show wasn't to start until fifteen minutes and she couldn't resist the opportunity to snoop. She glanced right and left and started to pad her way up the corridor.

She heard women giggling as they swiftly walked back and forth in the room with the sound of ruffled skirts.

She pressed herself against the wall when one of them halted just near the door frame.

'And damn it, George can wait! A lady should always play hard to get,' she exclaimed then moved back inside the room.

The giggles and voices faded as the girls seem to be headed in another part of the room. Natasha held the side of the door frame and quietly leaned in to take a look. Costumes, hats and other glittery accessories were scattered on an armchair and even on the floor. Her eye kept roaming along the room until it caught a glimpse of a strong and sharp silhouette, dressed in cheap blue fabric. The person seemed to be sitting apart at the artists' dressing table. Her heart skipped a beat before her brain had even had the time to process who that person was very likely to be.

She contained the gasp that desperately wanted to escape her lips as she popped her head farther inside the room through the frame of the door. She looked again and saw a strong arm propped on the table, then the square shoulder slightly bent forward and then…

'This is a restricted area,' a man called firmly behind her. She slightly jumped in surprise (something that rarely happened to her and only when she dropped her guard) and reluctantly shifted her gaze onto the security guard facing her.

Nobody else but them was in this corridor. She could have easily knocked the shit out of him in the most absolute silence and dragged him in a dark corner for interrupting but her reason reminded her this wasn't the place nor the time for it.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' she gasped instead, looking more innocent than a lamb. 'I was looking for the bathroom.'

Definitely an overrated and outdated excuse that the highly skilled spy she was would not have normally used. But since it was 1942, this excuse still had many prosperous years to live.

The security guy bought it like any macho who easily believed a woman was destitute of any sense of orientation would and he led her back to the public area.

She smiled at him as a thanks although her eyes screamed 'You're lucky you're still standing on your feet' and she walked into the main room this time.

The stage was average size and the whole decorum was somewhere between luxurious and modest. Round tables with chairs had been near to the stage while the back of the room was furnished with red velvet sofas and square tables covered with tasteful cloths.

She went up to the bar in the back and ordered a cocktail. She took her midnight blue coat off and put it on the stool next to her.

She drank a sip of the spirit and let it slide down her throat like a warm caress. She looked as people came order their drinks and acknowledge her presence as if she were one of them. Right now, in this venue, in this decorum, she fitted perfectly.

A tall man came and stood next to her.

His eye fell on her then he ordered a whisky.

'Hello,' he eventually started with a seductive smile. 'Did you come along with a friend?'

She took her eyes off the empty stage.

'I'm more of a loner,' she answered with a smirk.

Her reply fuelled his determination as he took a seat on the free stool next to her.

He had dark brown hair combed on the side, a pricey dark grey suit with shiny cuffs. His features were very symmetrical and his green eyes pierced through his long eyelashes. Really he was charming anyone would say, but she found him tragically average.

'May I pay you another drink after this one?' he asked, flashing what he had learned with experience was his most dashing smile.

The bright lights suddenly lost intensity announcing the imminent start of the show and people hastily regained their seats.

She grabbed her coat and her purse.

'Sorry,' she answered dully but with a playful smirk on. 'You're not my mission.'

She swiftly hopped down the stool and went to sit on one of the red velvet sofas across the room.

'Ladies and gentlemen!' a man yelled from the stage. 'Please welcome for his last show in New York City the one and only, America's hero, Captain America!'

People cheered and applauded as the spotlight hanging above the stage went on. Natasha instinctively pinched the skin under her chin.

A line of starlets wearing short sequin skirts with the Star-spangled flag on them paraded onto the stage and started to sing with big grins on. The men in the room were clapping and whistling hysterically.

She glimpsed sideways and noticed the man cheering on the table next to hers, leaning on his leather notebook. He seemed just as enthusiastic as the others.

From the music to the lyrics and the vibe; everything oozed 1942. If she had any doubt she had reached the good year, it had just been blown away like dust.

The dancers kept on dancing in unison, lifting their legs up high and twirling repeatedly.

After what seemed an eternity, they eventually parted into two groups to make way for America's hero. She filled her lungs with air and her thoracic cage rose up as a figure, dressed in the same blue fabric than the one she had seen earlier on from the door frame, walked on the stage in the most awkward gait possible and faced the audience with a smile on that hardly made up for the terrorized look he had under his cotton helmet.

People shouted and cheered. 'Captain!'

She watched completely riveted as he stood there, only a few meters away from her, looking safe and sound. He held up his wooden shield and started to recite a text he still hadn't learned by heart, she could tell.

She blinked a few times completely stunned, processing the undisputable fact that Steve was alive again. It took her great strength not to rise from her seat and run up to the stage. He suddenly moved around the stage and she irrationally panicked, forbidding herself to let him out of her sight for even one second. She followed him closely as he ran back and forth to play his little superhero act. After several minutes only her eyes progressively accustomed themselves to the sight of Steve moving about right in front of her.

She allowed herself to take her guard down a bit and to enjoy the show for what it really was; to put it simply, a mess.

She looked at his ridiculous outfit (his tights!) and his so-called shield, she watched him recite hollow speeches about freedom and victory in which he didn't put one bit of his legendary conviction. She watched as a clowny Hitler look-alike barged onto the stage and got knocked down by the most unrealistic and theatrical punch she had ever have the joy to witness.

She couldn't resist any more and chuckled. She pressed her hand against the side of her face and shook her head. 'Oh Rogers, I will tease you about it until my last breath,' she whispered to herself, an amused smile playing on her lips.

When the show finally ended, people rose to their feet to applaud the idol who clumsily bowed over to thank an audience he had never really asked for.

He and his dancers disappeared off the stage and single women started to rush to the door just like they aimed to do.

'What is happening?' Natasha asked one of the waitresses passing by.

'Everybody wants an autograph from Captain America. He always comes out here after performing.'

Steve appeared a few minutes later, indeed. Or more like, she caught a glimpse of him in the crowd of women surrounding him.

She got ready to take her coat in the arms, waiting for the right opportunity to bounce.

Steve signed numerous autographs and made his way through the crowd to the bar. Natasha started to get up her seat when a charming brown-haired woman beat her to it and engaged him in a conversation that quickly turned seductive.

Natasha was first annoyed by this undesired delay until she picked up something that piqued her interest. She watched them both interact and noted the huge gap between their body languages. While the woman's was open and engaging, Steve's attitude betrayed his only desire to walk out of the conversation. He remained polite of course but he looked just as uninterested as she was before with the tall man at the bar.

Furthermore, she could say without the shadow of a doubt that Steve had the attitude of someone whose heart was taken. She pouted slightly. This last minute discovery wouldn't make it easy for her. She expected him to reject her as soon as she would approach him. She had to think of another approach strategy that wouldn't put her in the position of a potential seductress or groupie. Her eyes roamed around the room when she turned and saw the man with his leather notebook drinking down his last sip of alcohol.

'Hey, you,' she called out to him as she leaned over. 'Fifty bucks for your notebook and your pen.'

The man gawked at her.

'But I've got some important notes in it,' the man answered.

She quickly glanced in Steve and the brunette's direction. Her stiff body language informed her he was in the process of rejecting her.

'You can tear up the pages you need for all I care.' She opened her purse and pressed a bill between her index and her middle finger that she shoved under his nose. 'Will a hundred dollars pay for the casualty?'

He goggled at the bill then down at his notebook.

A few seconds later, she was making her way to the bar, holding her coat over her arm and carrying the notebook and the pen in the other hand. The brunette was long gone and an old memory.

She stood behind him.

'Excuse me,' she started. Steve turned and looked at her slightly frightened by what he would hear. She froze for a few seconds. Seeing him up close took her back to her initial state of shock.

'Steve.' She cut herself off after the word tenderly slipped out of her lips before she had time to think. Her head was blurred with the painful memories of his death. But then a blissful feeling of relief took over her and wrapped her up in a warm and soft embrace she didn't want to pull away from. She clutched the book harder against her chest to keep herself from reaching towards him and hold him close so she would feel his heart beat this time around. She physically needed to feel him and touch him to make all this real, to prove to her reluctant and analytic mind that she had actually succeeded. She craved to hold him tight and whisper: 'I did it. I found you.'

And she also wanted to laugh at his face for wearing such a ridiculous costume; but this was another matter.

Steve looked at her as a frown started to form.

'Apologies', she said in a lighter tone. 'I mean captain Steve Rogers.'

'I'm sorry, do I know you?' he asked half shy and half embarrassed not to recognize her if he did.

She felt her joy drop a bit. It was one thing to expect him not to recognize her but it was another to actually look into the eyes of the person who had died in her arms and find nothing other than infinite void in return. It felt like losing him a second time.

She pushed those thoughts aside, locked them away in a closet and focused on her mission. She could start all over again. She could make them bond again. She was Natasha Romanoff and she had never given up. She had never backed down from a challenge for there had never been a challenge that was too big for her.

'No, not yet,' she smiled. She noted the change in his body language. He was starting to get uncomfortable. She never thought Steve could be any more awkward around women than she knew him to be. 'I am here for our interview,' she continued with a calm but expectant look. She looked at him as he glanced down at the leather notebook. Bingo.

He furrowed his brows. 'I don't recall having any interview scheduled.'

It was her turn to frown.

'You didn't get any call? Someone was supposed to inform you of my visit.'

'You're the first person who has approached me regarding this interview. I'm sorry; you seem trustworthy, it's just that I usually get a call when some journalist wants to meet me.'

She scratched her temple.

'Oh, that's a shame. Jimmy will definitely hear from me,' she said to herself with a feigned annoyed pout then looked back at him. 'I can call my boss and have him speak with you if that can put your mind at rest. It's Friday evening though and it's getting a bit late, he'll probably give me an earful on Monday for disrupting him while listening to his game.'

She laughed it off light-heartedly then pretended to head for the nearest phone. He stopped her just like she expected the guilt would work him up to her advantage.

'That's alright,' he said kindly. 'I'd hate to get you into trouble for such a silly detail. We can do without the official call.'

He smiled genuinely at her. She found that to be adorable.

'Thank you,' she smiled in relief. 'I owe you one. I'm Natalie Rushman, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you.'

Natalie Rushman had always been her favorite alter ego.

He looked at her intently.

'It's an honor, ma'am,' he spoke softly.

The urge to say 'hi' like she had the very first time they met was hard to fight.

'Shall we start?' he asked.

She nodded. He motioned for her to go first and followed her as she took them to an isolated red velvet sofa in the corner of the room.

'What I would like to do is something polished,' she said. 'I don't want to write about Captain America; everybody thinks they know him. I want to write about Steve Rogers, about you as a person.'

His look expressed bafflement.

'It's a lot more than any journalist has ever asked from me.'.

She grinned.

'That's great you like it cause I really want to meet you every day for the next...let's say few weeks.'

She dropped the bomb in a gentle manner.

'Few weeks?' he laughed nervously. 'I don't think I'm interesting enough to fill yours days for such a long period of time.'

'Don't worry. You are.'

She meant it and he perceived it.

She grabbed her pen and opened the notebook to create the illusion. She started to think of questions to ask.

'What paper did you say you worked for?' he asked.

She swayed the pen between her fingers.

'Hum, _Soldiers' housewives magazine._ '

Catchy. Intriguing. An accurate touch of misogyny that would fit suit the decade. The title was fairly believable.

'We want our soldiers' spouses to feel involved in the war too and not just be put aside as they wait for their husbands to return from the field. We want to keep them informed on everything from battle reports to latest ilitary improvements,' she explained with a professional composure but a hint of passion.

'It sounds very good,' Steve said. 'Pioneering even.'

She smiled. She suspected he would like the concept. Even she liked the concept. The magazine was totally fake but she would have totally checked it out if it wasn't.

'Groundbreaking is my thing. I believe you have to go against the rules and shake up the world to see it change for the better.'

He eyed her with an intrigued look.

'Do you do that a lot?' he inquired.

'Was it really ground-breaking?' he exclaimed.

It made him smile genuinely and took a new posture that betrayed his interest and openness.

'The last time was only a few hours ago,' she said with a smirk.

'Oh, _ground-breaking_ does not even start to come close to it,' she answered with a playful smile.

'And did it pay off?' he continued, slightly leaning forward in her direction, his elbow propped on the table.

She looked up at him behind her long lashes.

'It's a bit early to say. But so far, definitely.'

He lifted his hand up and propped his chin on his thumb, the rest of his hand rolled in a fist. She knew he craved to know more, she could see the interest sparkling in his eyes, but she also knew he was too much of a gentleman to ask for further details. There was fine line between being curious and prying and Steve Rogers had been taught to never step on it.

'I hope it keeps on that way,' he concluded to put an end to this talk, much to his regret.

'I am confident it will,' she assured.

'Why that?' he didn't resist to demand one last time. She enjoyed the idea of his breaking the code of the perfect gentleman because he found her fascinating enough. Just like the Chimera was.

'For the simple reason I always get what I want,' she explained matter-of-factly. 'Even when it seems like I have failed or it is impossible, I always find a way to get around it.'

He gazed her quietly with nothing other than jazzy music playing in the background.

'Did I shock you, captain Rogers?'

He raised his eyebrows then shook his head.

'Not the least, Miss Rushman. Actually, you remind me of someone,' he spoke softly, almost fondly.

Only a woman could leave such a deep mark. He paused for a short moment then mentally brushed off the thought (or perhaps the reminiscence) he was having.

'So you really want to see me regularly for the next few weeks?' he changed subject and asked slightly embarrassed to get so much interest at once.

'I do,' she answered with a smile. 'I will be very flexible and will follow your schedule. I can make myself very discreet.'

He shook his head.

'Honestly Miss Rushman, I will be honored to be in your company.'

She spotted in his eyes the look he used to have whenever she did something heroic or noble. For a moment, it felt like having Steve back and this made something inside of her bloom.


	4. Chapter 4

It was hard to let him go that evening. Natasha kept coming up with questions and various topics for Natalie to ask and discuss.

He answered them gladly and with much interest moreover, but the clock soon struck an hour when any meeting had to reach its end to keep its respectable nature and when decency wanted a woman to head back home. God, it hadn't been a day yet and she already hated all this bothersome etiquette.

'Shall I accompany you back to your apartment?' Steve asked while she was putting on her coat.

She genuinely found the whole question and the chivalrous tone he had taken hilarious.

'Good one,' she laughed instinctively.

He looked at her with a perplexed frown. She realized her mistake.

'Oh, it won't be necessary. I'll take a cab, anyway,' she rectified with a smile. 'But thank you.'

Steve nodded and walked her outside the venue on the sidewalk. He lifted his arm and hailed for a cab which pulled over immediately, much to her regret. Steve went to the taxi and opened the back door for her.

She reluctantly stepped down the sidewalk and stood behind the door, face to him. She looked him in the eye closely, gathering the most vivid sight of him to take away with her. She brushed off the fear of losing him again by reminding herself he wasn't meant to die neither tonight nor the day after. Steve was pretty much safe in that timeline.

'Good night, Miss Rushman,' he said with a polite voice.

She bit her bottom lip then composed her best smile.

'See you tomorrow, captain Rogers,' her eyes glittered at the prospect of it.

He nodded and waited until she got in the taxi then he gently pushed the door close for her.

The car drove away and she looked at his reflection in the outside rear-view mirror as he stood tall by the side of the road.

She went to bed that night with this image of him playing in her head over and over till she finally drifted off.

The next meeting had been set for lunch in a quiet and affordable restaurant Steve had said he really enjoyed going.

She put on a more casual, but still elegant outfit and let her curly hair down. She then grabbed the key tool of her trickery, her notebook, and headed out of the apartment.

Finding him sitting on the chair at the terrace brought her joy and relief. Steve seemed to be doodling on the paper napkin put on the table. He glimpsed absently in her direction then looked again with a friendly smile on. He rose to his feet and straightened his jacket as she walked up to him.

He waited for her to sit first then sat back in his chair. They ordered a drink and she felt as he threw glances at her from time to time while she pretended to look down at the notes she had written in her notebook the evening before.

'I am going to ask you short questions and I would like you to give me an answer as brief as possible,' she eventually said, looking up at him.

Steve nodded.

She picked up the pen between her fingers.

'What name do you like to be called?'

'Steve.'

'What kind of people you think should be fought?'

'Bullies.'

'And what kind of people deserve to be protected?'

'Anybody.'

'Who is the last person you hugged?'

'Bucky. I mean, my best friend James.'

'Your favorite word.'

'Freedom.'

'Your favourite color.'

'Blue,' he smiled playfully at her. 'It's in my contract.'

She smiled at the joke.

'The one word that would define you.'

'I don't know.' She looked up at him and found a cynical smile on his face. 'I thought I knew…until I was put aside. I'm still trying to figure it out.'

She knew the answer. A hero. Something he would never dare to call himself not now, nor ever.

'Your proudest achievement,' she went on.

'Entering the army.'

'Your biggest disappointment.'

'Hmm, being kicked out of army, I guess,' he answered with a smile that concealed bitter feelings.

She saw a hint of sorrow and the longing to go back to a life that suited him better. She felt the urge to reassure him that the war was not over for him, that it hadn't even started out yet.

'You _will_ succeed,' she murmured with a comforting look.

He looked at her intently then glanced away with an embarrassed smile.

'Don't feel like you have to cheer me up,' he said.

'Cheering up isn't my thing,' she answered gently but firmly enough not to have her words questioned. 'But I never let go a chance to set the record straight when I can see the truth staring right at me." A smile rose to her lips. 'Call it arrogance.'

He smiled and watched her more closely than he was before.

'Why?' he asked.

 _'Because I know you,_ ' she wanted to answer with the most indisputable confidence in the world piercing through her eyes.

'Because I can read people,' she said assertively instead.

Steve shook his head and chuckled.

'Fine. Do it on me,' he dared her in a friendly but still curious way.

She smirked. She couldn't have hoped for a better game. She folded her arms on the table and leaned forwards.

'You're more of a defender than an attacker, hence your shield.'

He agreed but didn't seem quite impressed yet. This was an easy conclusion to come to.

'You're not the kind to start a fight, but not the kind to walk out of it either.'

He listened closely. She could see the sparkle of interest progressively shining in his pupils.

She looked down at the napkin put next to his cup.

'You're sensitive, idealistic and resilient,' she said.

He glanced back and forth at the napkin and her.

'You saw all this from a doodle?' he asked warily

She blinked slowly and leaned over as if she was about to share a secret nobody else should be hearing.

'We both know this isn't just a doodle,' she stated with a conniving smirk then leaned back in her chair. 'And those are the qualities needed to reach this strong level of sketching.'

She couldn't remember ever seeing Steve draw something in her time and she was genuinely curious to have a better look at his artwork and discover a new side of him he didn't express much in the modern days. She also didn't dare to ask to see it as she knew art was something that had to be shared willingly, and out of trust.

The waitress, who was walking past their table, shot a discreet but interested glance at Steve who answered to it with a shy, tight-lipped smile.

'And you are less comfortable around women than what appearances could make anyone believe,' Natasha said as she fixed her gaze on the waitress and watched her walk away.

He rubbed his jaw.

'I am comfortable around women,' he protested.

Oh Steve. She stared at him fondly. It was hilarious and endearing to watch him lie his way out of this talk. She was also surprised to find out Steve was more cocky in the 1940s. And she liked it.

She shook her head and smiled. It brought back memories.

'Let me guess. Your best quality is that you're a terrible liar.'

He paused for a shot second then let out a laugh and looked away, embarrassed he got busted.

'You win,' he conceded, raising his hands in the air. 'You can read through me. Please, let's stop before you start disclosing more compromising secrets.'

People walked by the terrace and didn't seem to pay to the least attention to the two of them. Not like the evening before when people kept staring at Captain America. Here, in this restaurant, he was just Steve, the kid from Brooklyn like he had told her.

'It's unfair, though,' Steve continued. 'It seems like you know a lot about me and I know nothing about you.'

Red alert! Way to ruin her cover if she was supposed to remain a stranger and someone easy to forget.

'There isn't much to say about me,' she spoke gently.

'Everybody has a story,' he affirmed. She was well aware he didn't insist out of curiosity but to show his genuine interest in knowing her better. 'Where do you come from?'

She gulped down the sip of her coffee.

'Central Park,' she blurted out.

He slightly squinted, looking perplexed but amused.

'I mean I live right in front of the park.'

'A real countrywoman ,' he smiled. She smiled back.

'And what is it that made you want to become a j-'

'Where is your best friend?' she cut him off with an enthusiastic voice. She knew this was a topic that would keep his mind busy. She pretended to look through her notes. 'Hmm…James. You've mentioned him before.'

It did the trick. Steve's features shifted.

'He's in the field,' he answered calmly though he couldn't conceal his concern and even his envy to be alongside him. 'I haven't got any news from him for a little while, now. But I know he's doing fine. He always does.'

He stared into space as he said those words. She watched him closely. A part of her didn't understand Steve's ability to see Bucky in the Winter soldier and his infallible determination to save him no matter the cost. She understood even less after his death. All she saw was a murderer. Steve's murderer. She had no doubt Barnes had been his closest friend, but she had also witnessed enough brainwashing to know there was no coming back from it. On the other hand, would she have ever given up on Clint if he had been turned into a ruthless assassin?

'It sounds like you really look up to him,' she said. 'So Captain America has a hero too, huh?'

He looked back at her, dived his piercing blue eyes into hers then they both shared a smile.

He opened his mouth, ready to protest when a little girl appeared suddenly and asked for an autograph.

Steve flinched in surprise, clumsily stretched his hand to take her paper and knocked over his empty cup in the process. The cup started falling off the table towards the hard ground when Natasha leaned over and swiftly grabbed it.

Her audience froze. The little girl looked at her like she had just found herself her new favorite hero. Steve had taken his eyes off the paper he was about to sign and was looking back and forth at her and the cup in her hand. Natasha pinched her lips together and smiled as she put the cup back on the table. Steve signed the autograph for the girl with obvious haste, thanked her with a tender smile then turned all his attention back on her.

'You've got impressive reflexes,' he commented openly the same way he had that time they had gone on a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. a long time before the whole Hydra situation had been put to light. Steve had jolted his shield at an enemy, which had then rebounded on the wall when she had instinctively jumped in, caught the shield in motion to protect herself from the bullets shot in her direction then had slammed her opponent's face with it. When calm had returned, Steve had walked up to her and said those same exact words. This was the start of their shield sharing, a formidable combination where they complemented each other in every fight and passed each other the shield in an improvised but instinctive choreography.

'I think you've got a far more interesting story than you want to admit,' he spoke again, peering at her intensely.

'Go get a journalist licence -which basically means grab a random notebook and a pen just like I did- and then you can come interview me," she spoke softly, a smirk rising to her lips.

He laughed wholeheartedly at what could only be an innocent joke.


	5. Chapter 5

Meetings followed regularly, daily, and soon became less of formal interviews than friendly talks. He enjoyed her company too much to take some distance and she felt too strongly the need to have him close to take the initiative herself. His presence progressively healed the painful memories of his death and her camaraderie unconsciously soothed his feelings of sorrow and loneliness. With Barnes being away at war, Natalie soon became the only friend he had. Just a friend, as she knew all the room in his heart was taken by another woman.

Eventually, the leather notebook remained in the drawer of her desk at the apartment. Steve didn't bring it up, though. He made the assumption that the article was in the works and he never asked about it for he entertained the thought of her coming for him and not just for her job anymore.

And so the day naturally happened when he asked her to call him Steve. As she now knew it was the name he preferred to be called, she accepted and treasured his request but also dreaded the reasons and the outcomes that would ensue. This was why it wasn't until a few days later, after she had made up her mind, that she had given him permission to call her by her first name. He had smiled and complied happily.

She knew it wasn't right. She knew she was jeopardizing the mission by becoming a presence he yearned for and would have a difficult time to forget after she had gone. But there was something in Steve, _this_ Steve she couldn't pull away from. Every minute in his company was a chance to reconnect with her friend and teammate but also to learn more about this Steve from 1942. And in a way, she found them so different. 1942 Steve was a less bitter and damaged version of modern Steve. 1942 Steve had this innocence, this endearing naivety, this sweet clumsiness and an insatiable hope for the future and humanity that the Steve she knew seemed to have left behind in the ice; and, as she listened to the way he talked of Barnes, of _Bucky_ , every time they met, also after his death. She was now convinced than his abrupt passing had affected Steve and made him the person she had always known until she met his past self. This conclusion fuelled her determination to save Barnes and in the process preserve Steve's original joie de vivre.

She found out Steve was more spontaneous

'What are your plans for New Year's Eve?' he had once asked innocently.

'Well, I don't have any family here so I'm probaby going to curl up in my sofa and brood about it while eating some ice cream,' she had answered.

'Oh, you too?' he had smiled. 'Here's an idea. How about we brood together? I know a place that sells the best ice cream in the city. What do you say?'

'I say you're probably gonna leave the party being more broody than when you arrived cause Iplan to eat all your ice cream.'

And that was how they decided to spend New Years' Eve together.

And more loquacious, too. He complimented her when she walked in the cabaret. He had looked up, seen her step through the door and jumped up his seat to welcome her like a gentleman should.

'You look…stunning,' he blurted out then mentally beat himself up for this burst of frankness. He looked at her, almost apologetic.

She looked around. The atmosphere was festive, people were in a celebrating and happy mood, all ready to put aside the reality of the war to welcome the upcoming year.

'Why, thank you,' she answered lightly to ease the mood. 'But I think my hairdresser pushed the Marilyn Monroe look a bit too far.'

A confused look spread across his face.

'Who?' he asked.

Oops. And yet another anachronism. She had been collecting them lately.

'You don't know her? Well, mark my words, Steve. She'll be very famous. An icon,' she said after he pulled her chair in while she sat. He went to sit in his chair face to her and she leaned closer. 'You heard it here first,' she added, murmuring suavely and winked. It made him laugh. She was enjoying this whole time travel thing way too much.

'I won't forget,' he answered with a smile then detached his gaze from her to choose a drink on the menu.

'5...4...3,' people sang in unison as they both watched from their seats. '2...1...Happy New Year!'

She turned to look at Steve's smiling face. The night was magical. He was alive, happy and by her side. 1943 seemed to be very promising and she never thought once she would be there to see it.

At the end of the evening, she waited for him as he signed a couple of autographs for people who had approached him when they were leaving the venue.

She threw a glimpse in his direction then stepped outside on the deserted sidewalk to breathe some fresh air. The temperature was cool but quite merciful for December/January. She heard footsteps getting close and felt a hand reach for her purse. Her body reacted instinctively. She grabbed the unidentified hand, twisted it in a way to force the person to bend over in front of her. The man, dressed in black, and looking like a cheap thief, wailed in pain while she pressed her two fingers on the most sensitive nerve of his wrist.

'Looks like you had to pick the only lady in New York City who isn't really one,' she muttered harshly but with an entertained sneer. The thief didn't even try to escape her grip, he look straight in her eyes and had a feeling she could break his wrist in just a flinch. And he couldn't have been any more right. Her gaze was still and serene but it was also what made it very much hostile and frightening. She looked like she was in control and knew exactly each and every movement of her hand that could inflict pain on his.

Natasha heard Steve come out of the venue and switched off her Black Widow persona. She released the pressure on the scoundrel's wrist just when Steve shouted and came running. The thief took advantage of the sudden twist of event, slipped his hand out of her willingly loose grip and shoved her before running off. She hardly staggered but took a few steps back to regain her balance. She felt Steve's strong arms slide around her waist from behind to catch her.

'Are you alright?' he asked, sounding quite alarmed, then after checking for himself by scanning her up and down, he leaped to run after the thief. She pressed her hand against his chest.

'Leave it,' she said. She was pretty positive the idiot would never renew the experience. Steve gave up but let out a sigh of frustration to blow off the steam as he watched him run round the corner. He then eventually fix his gaze back on her.

'This time, you let me walk you home,' he said. A courtesy she had always declined until now.

She nodded. He gave her his arm with a friendly smile then they literally walked their way to her apartment. It took them nearly an hour to reach her block mostly because they had extended their stroll. The streets were silent; shining light bulbs laying a warm and safe atmosphere around them. They discussed numerous topics: some she already knew he liked, some others she found out he had a deep interest in.

He talked a lot about having a home, children and a family.

'I know you don't put much faith in the institution of marriage,' he started with an amused smile. Yeah, she might have let that slip out during one of their talks. 'But yeah, I consider it is one step closer to achieve my definition of happiness.'

She stopped in front of her residence and turned to face him.

'Who is that woman who has your heart, Steve Rogers?' she asked softly with a little smile.

He frowned in surprise.

'What makes you think there is one?'

She shrugged and briefly broke eye contact. 'Call it intuition.'

He looked her deep in the eye, uncertain but tempted.

'Is it journalist Miss Rushman asking for her article?' he asked playfully.

'I'm asking as your friend,' she answered. She hadn't used this word in a while although she had been wanting to do so since the very beginning, but somehow, it sounded off now that she was saying out loud.

His smile turned into a sad one.

'There is…was someone. But she's gone now,' he murmured.

'From the army?' she asked.

He answered yes. She knew for a fact this woman who had his heart wasn't gone yet. And her return was imminent.

She nodded wistfully nonetheless for the illusion although not entirely because she was being sympathetic.

'She must be brave and strong,' she commented casually.

Steve looked at her intensely.

'You are brave and strong,' he stated matter-of-factly in a soft voice.

She looked up at him like she never had before. It felt like hearing the Steve from the future. Assertive as if he knew her. But it was impossible; she furrowed her brows in confusion.

'I saw you earlier with that thief,' Steve went on, chuckling. 'And he definitely was the one who looked like he was in serious distress. I almost wondered who I was supposed to rescue.'

It made her smile. 'Well, what can I say? It's my favorite purse,' she teased.

He laughed lightly, then turned a intent gaze on her. 'Aren't you from another time?'

He seemed to mean it...just not on a level close enough to what it really was.

She cocked an eyebrow.

'I hear that a lot,' she murmured with a smile. A part of her secretly wished he could know everything; know everything she was doing to save him and be the hero he had always believed she was.

Alas, that time hadn't come yet.

She lifted her hand and gently squeezed his forearm.

'Good night, Steve,' she said before heading inside the building.


	6. Chapter 6

They met again the day after, and the days following as well, becoming each other's only company. She kept astonishing him and he kept surprising her. He liked how her boldness and spirit were ahead of their time and she couldn't help finding his old-fashioned manners and his candor endearing.

Steve was to perform to the soldiers in Europe and come back a couple of days later. Or so he said. She knew it would take longer. Having memorized all the course of events, she knew this 'show' would trigger a whole series of events that would lead him back to Barnes. That would take him back to _her;_ the woman he loved.

'See you soon, then!' she lied nonetheless, playing credulity to the perfection. Part of her was content to know he would soon become the soldier he always wished to be; part of her ached to watch him go away again. She hated the idea of not being there to protect him although she knew his skills and fate were on his side.

Her arms instinctively reached out, ready to hold him in her arms but she stopped herself in time. She interrupted the motion and peered absently as she gently pressed his elbow instead. When she eventually looked up, she found him staring silently at her hand on his arm then straight into her eyes. He opened his mouth slightly, ready to speak but unable to find words to say. This lingering quietness and these loud looks exchanged made her feel uncomfortable. A feeling she wasn't familiar with, and therefore disliked.

She pulled her hand away as if she had just burned herself.

'Rock it,' she smiles.

He snorted.

'I'm just going to sing to a division. I doubt I'll make a hit,' he answered.

'You never know. Life is full of surprises,' she commented with a mischievous smirk.

He left, hardly convinced. She watched walk away to meet up with his destiny.

The couple of days went by and she turned all her attention on achieving her first mission. She returned to the bank, asked to speak with the director just like she had the first time (Peter blushed again) and requested to have a passport made for her. He nodded professionally, took the photograph she had taken care of bringing with her and assured her it would be ready within a week.

'I'll send it straight to the apartment,' he said, solicitous to not raise suspicions on her repetitive visits and preserve both their identities.

She searched for specific maps she had studied before time traveling and started to work on her strategy. She still had a few weeks left but she refused to let not even one detail to chance. She had to be methodical and efficient, like she had always been on any mission. This mission being the most important and meaningful in her life, she planned to perfect it until she felt fully satisfied.

After a week, she spent most of her days in the apartment, feeling bored. She often looked out the window wondering what Steve was doing at this exact moment; wishing she could be fighting by his side. Fighting alongside someone was the only way she knew to show her trust, her respect and her affection. She had fought for S.H.I.E.L.D out of respect for Fury, she had learned to fight next to Thor and the Hulk after giving them her trust, and every time she went on a mission with Clint, she did it because she valued their friendship more than anything. Steve, just like the latter, had earned the three from her and she felt frustration not being physically supporting him in his journey to becoming Captain America. She knew it wasn't her place, she knew it wasn't her time, but she had been in this timeline long enough to feel like she belonged in it and had every right to actively take part in it.

She sighed. Once again, she was missing Steve.

One morning, she walked by the newspaper stand when a headline caught her attention.

 _CAPTAIN AMERICA SAVES THE DAY AND DESTROYS STRATEGIC HYDRA HEADQUARTER_

She smiled , genuinely thrilled for her friend's achievement and for being lucky enough to witness it. Her fingers stroked the photograph showing Steve dressed in a real military suit, standing with an expression of humble pride on his face as the soldiers surrounding him seemed to be cheering for his victory.

She bought the paper, read the article again and again or smiled to herself as she looked at his photograph unremittingly. She enjoyed the sight of his smile and of his strong and square body in the official military outfit too greatly to put the newspaper down.

She related to his joy way more than she had ever rejoiced for anyone else's success before. Perhaps because she had seen him long for a recognition he was finally granted.

Her phone rang eventually, nearly two weeks after they last time spoke. She felt a burst of unexplainable excitement when she heard his voice on the other end of the line.

'Are you free, tonight?' he asked.

'I guess I can make some room on my agenda to see America's new hero,' she teased.

Steve set the meeting in a place he had never taken her before.

She put on an emerald dress, kept her wavy blond hair down and headed outside. She was surprised to find out the place was a bar, as in any regular bar therefore inappropriate for distinguished women. It didn't shock her. But she was surprised it didn't shock Steve either.

She walked inside and stood for a second, earning surprised, content and lustful looks from all the men in the room. She looked ravishing and mysterious, perhaps even more than usual, and instantly embodied each and every male present in the bar's ultimate fantasy. She ignored them all as her eyes swept around the room, searching for the only man in the assembly who had her complete interest. Steve stepped in her line of sight looking happier than he had ever been.

He walked up to her with an aplomb which was admittedly unprecedented but still couldn't overshadow his natural modesty. She smiled genuinely and he smiled back with just as much warmth. His grin, his masculine demeanor, the bliss of seeing him back, she was so close to touching him if it wasn't for her mission. She couldn't care less about the audience watching and decency. Especially decency. It could go take a hike.

He came stand in front of her and looked at her intently, his dark pupils slightly trembling.

She broke the silence first.

'It appears you had quite a boring couple of weeks,' she said ironically.

'You have no idea,' he commented with a smile. 'I wish I could have told you myself before you read about it on the papers.'

He led her across the room to another area in the back. His hand grazed her forearm as they walked past the men who were now staring with an expression of sheer fascination, all wondering who this gorgeous woman acquainted with Captain America was.

'A bar, Steve Rogers?' she teased when they passed the door and entered a quieter room. 'This isn't like you.'

He smiled and shook his head.

'In my defense, it wasn't my idea,' he replied, a bit embarrassed.

'Well, you keep saying she is more modern than any person you ever met. I am sure she won't mind,' a voice said.

Natasha turned and identified the man speaking immediately. Barnes. The fancy military suit and the impeccably-groomed haired couldn't conceal what he really was. A murderer. She clenched her fist as her first reaction was to replay Steve's death in her head. Steve being shot in the back. Steve collapsing on the ground. Steve agonizing and then releasing his last breath in her shaky arms. A strong and virulent part of her wished she could finish him right here, right now. One flip of the neck and her mission would be accomplished. Steve would be safe. But her reason, her best side, louder than the rest reminded her the man who standing in front of her wasn't this murderer yet; and never would have to be if she succeeded. She looked closely at him as he smiled at her with a warm, borderline seductive smile and she found no trace of darkness in his eyes. She looked at him and she saw…herself. Years ago, a long time before Clint gave her a chance at redemption, a long time before she joined the Red Room.

'Indeed, I do not,' she replied, arching an eyebrow at him.

'James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky,' he spoke suavely, shaking her hand warmly.

Barnes wasn't going to become evil; he wasn't even going to turn into an assassin by choice, he was going to become a victim. And as she made the vow to protect victims, she understood how Steve had been right all along when he kept saying the Winter Soldier deserved to be saved.

'Natalie Rushman,' she answered, looking at him with a fascination she didn't even try to hide.

He and Steve waited for her to sit first then followed.

She sat at the bar with them for the rest of the night. Something outrageous for anyone who would see her there but which Steve seemed to admire, and James Barnes to be quite charmed about.

'Your new suit isn't so bad,' she told Steve later in the evening. He was wearing an elegant brown military suit with shiny medals on it. 'But I think I have a preference for your former one,' she added referring to his cosplay costume and drank a sip of her cocktail from the straw.

He rolled his eyes and smiled. 'Of course, you do.'

'Well, it had chic and elegant written all over it,' she said.

'I wish I had seen that,' Barnes chimed in.

'It was quite a sight,' Natasha asserted.

'Am I still gonna hear about that cheap costume for very long?' Steve sighed.

'Longer than you think,' she seemed to promise with her cockiest smirk.

Later that evening, Barnes hopped down his stool to go and greet an old pal who passed by. Natasha turned to Steve who was sipping his drink with a smile he had kept all night.

'So, you want to tell me what happened there?' she asked after she leaned in closer towards him.

He put his glass down and winced slightly.

'I don't want you to think I'm bragging,' he said, shaking his head. 'Plus, I'm sure newspapers covered the wole thing better than I would.'

She smiled and slowly raised her big green eyes onto him. 'I would never think such a thing, Steve. Plus, I don't care what newspapers say. I want to hear your version.'

He eyed her playfully and laughed.

'You don't care about what newspapers say? You're a shame to your profession, Nat!"

The last word sent an electric shock through her body. She turned and looked at him with a confused frown.

'What did you just call me?' she asked, thinking it was just her imagination.

Steve had a bashful smile. 'I'm sorry. You don't like it?'

She shook her head gently and smiled.

'It just felt like a déjà vu, that's it,' she explained calmly. She looked at him and recalled all the times Steve randomly called her Nat on missions or during a conversation. It both surprised and pleased her to know some habits died hard, even when time was part of the equation. Their bond seemed to inevitably go back to what it was and knew no restrictions. A timeless connection. 'I like it,' she assured him.

He smiled in response and started telling her in his own words the rescue mission she had read on reports a week earlier. She knew most of it already, but hearing it from Steve brought a whole new wave of unknown details. She listened with attention and interest and seemed to rediscover the story from a whole new angle. She listened as he praised Barnes' heroism even after going through days of torture and experiments. He spoke of him with pride and solemnity without realizing.

'It's great, Steve,' she commented when he finished. A playful smirk then rose to her lips.

'I hate to brag but it looks like I was damn right."

Steve laughed wholeheartedly while the barman threw a judging look in her direction for using such an unladylike language. Steve propped his temple on his fist so that his head was tilted towards her.

He eyed her for a time longer than necessary and grinned to himself as he seemed to wonder.

'I guess you were,' he conceded without any effort.

She wiggled on her stool and looked at him. 'Are you impressed?' she teased, slightly squinting her eyes.

A short but noticeable pause followed.

'Always and forever' he eventually answered without any reserve. His reply cut her teasing short and puzzled her. She felt quizzical and, surprisingly, flattered.

Barnes came back and the casual conversation started again. She opened up progressively to her former enemy as she grew to enjoy his wit. It soon became obvious why he and Steve had become best friends. They probably would strike anyone as being completely different; but with time you would get to realize they had a lot in common and that their two personalities actually complemented one another.

She soon joined their natural complicity and laughed along as if she were the legitimate third member of the group.

It was until someone cleared their throat behind them and interrupted their laughter. A female voice, Natasha could tell. She turned on her stool and frowned as she saw Steve hurriedly get up his seat and stand in a stiff posture. She peered at him from the corner of her eye: his expression had a peculiar mix of elation and embarrassment. Embarrassed of what? That was the question.

She turned to look at the person who triggered such a sharp reaction. The woman standing in front of them was wearing an elegant dark red dress that perfectly molded her curves. Her brown, wavy hair was framing her jaw and her thin neck; her large brown eyes expressed a masculine confidence although a hint of annoyance was buried deep down her dark pupils, Natasha noticed.

The tension between her and Steve was unmissable and betrayed hidden feelings. Natasha looked at her with appreciation. She was finally meeting the woman who had captured Steve's heart. She couldn't help start to compare herself to her.

'Captain Rogers,' she started in a neat English accent and a bit too professional tone. 'My apologies for interrupting you in such pleasant company,' she threw a glimpse in Natasha's direction.

Barnes seemed to find the whole situation highly entertaining as the smirk on his lips showed it clearly.

'May I introduce you to my friend?' Steve eventually uttered. The woman looked at her intently. 'This is Natalie Rushman. She works for a magazine.'

'Nat-Natalie§' he continued with the same awkwardness as he tried to correct himself.' This is agent Carter. She supervised me during my training and gave me the chance to go find Bucky.'

Natasha put on her best smile which was reciprocated with the same level of social convenience. Did it lack sincerity? Definitely; although Natasha couldn't really explain why.

Agent Carter probed her up and down then finally detached her eyes.

'I am very sorry to interrupt what seems to be a delectable evening but I am afraid serious matters send me here which I shall discuss with you…in private,' she spoke assertively then glanced at Natasha. 'Apologies for depriving you of these two gentlemen but what is about to be discussed cannot be heard by a civilian…even less a journalist,' she explained calmly but with a slightly crafty smile.

Natasha blinked in surprise. Well, that hurt. Never had the Black Widow been put aside for a strategic meeting. She had always been a central character in those discussions. And being reduced to a mere civilian? It stung her ego.

She kept her composure though as she reminded herself she _was_ the one in the way. There had never been any Natalie Rushman friends with Steve Rogers in 1942 until she changed history and made it happen. Carter's presence was the most legitimate in this room. Not hers.

She smiled the warmest smile given the whole situation. As for Barnes, all he seemed to be missing was a bag of popcorn.

'Natalie isn't like that,' Steve retorted gently but with an assured tone.

'There is no harm, Steve,' Natasha cut him off. 'Agent Carter is right. This isn't my place. I will give you some privacy until you have finished.'

She clutched her purse and went down her stool. She walked past Carter and both shared a smile which was less the expression of a mutual friendliness than the irrational satisfaction of making physical distance between them.


	7. Chapter 7

Natasha waited just like she said she would. She watched the three of them interact from a distance, although three was quite inaccurate. Peggy had only eyes for Steve although she probably didn't realize; Barnes was standing quietly, torn between amusement and what she supposed was the unusual disappointment of being ignored by a woman. Steve had only eyes for her too, he looked down at her with a mix of awe and glee whilst she spoke to him with the same constant confidence since her arrival. He did something Natasha didn't expect though. He glimpsed at her from time to time, a spark of worry to find she had gone; an expression of satisfaction as soon as he found her sitting at a table.

Eventually, the conversation ended. Agent Carter finally acknowledged Barnes to say goodbye with a brief nod then stepped away. Natasha got up her seat just when she walked past her.

'Miss Rushman,' she started with a polite smile. 'It's been a real delight to meet you.'

She smirked internally. 'The feeling is mutual, agent Carter.'

Who was a better liar? Nobody would ever know. They were both women, they were both agents; that made one too many skills they had in common. They sealed the promise of never having to meet again by exchanging a warm smile then parted.

Natasha walked up to Steve, and Carter didn't resist the urge any longer to turn her head and take a glimpse of the two of them over her shoulder, and thus just when she was about to pass the door and succeed in restraining herself from doing it.

Natasha, in spite of what it looked like, knew all about the conversation that had just happened. She played along nonetheless and asked the question for the sake of it.

'Everything alright?' she inquired innocently.

Barnes gave her a sympathetic look for the news that was about to be dropped to her.

'Nat,' Steve started with a happy and a bitter look. 'Peggy came to tell me they wanted me back on the field…for good.'

She stared at him with her big green eyes while he seemed to wait for a reaction.

'Steve, that's great!' she commented genuinely. 'You are about to become the person you've always wanted to be.'

The battles, the Howling Commando: Steve was on his way to become Captain America - and the first Avenger of the team.

'Yes,' he said happily then looked down, seeming to avert something he refused to face.

'What's wrong?' she asked. 'Why does it feel like you're not a 100% rejoicing?'

Barnes snorted. 'I don't think Steve is very eager to leave you, darling,' he commented behind his shoulder.

'Bucky!" Steve grunted and threw a dirty glare in his direction.

'Come on Barnes, don't be a tease,' Natasha told him off with a playful smile.

'He's right,' Steve spoke out to her surprise as he turned his back on his friend to face her.

Barnes stared, totally baffled by his friend's sudden burst of frankness.'Aaaand,' he exclaimed keeping the high note for a couple of seconds. 'I'm gonna give you some privacy,' he said as he pointed to a random direction he would vanish towards.

Steve rolled his eyes. Natasha remained mute.

'Natalie,' he started, diving his piercing blue eyes into hers without any reserve. It became even harder for her to find words to say. Never had Steve looked at her with such intensity; neither those past few weeks nor ever. 'Nothing makes me happier than fighting for liberty with my companions but it also means not coming back for weeks. Last month I wouldn't have cared at all but now is different,' he paused and smiled warmly. 'I'm leaving my friend behind.'

She gawped. Literally. She saw him for the first time from a different light. She had never known him to have this eloquence and unconditional frankness with people he cared about. Steve was a man of great words when it came to strengthen the team and civilians, but with people and emotions, he would build up this unbreakable rampart. She could see it; she could recognize it anywhere, actually. It was the same rampart she had. Same bricks, same defenses. She understood how losing Barnes then agent Carter had made him more wary to protect himself from being hurt to lose someone again.

'Oh Steve,' she murmured gently. She wanted to stroke the side of his face and reassure him; she wanted to promise him that he wouldn't have to go through fighting his long-lost best friend. She wanted to tell him she would miss him just as much while he would be away, or certainly even more. She had known him for a lot longer than he had, technically.

She wanted to tell him all those things and show him all her affection but she couldn't do any of it. Not for the sake of her mission. Not for the sake of his fate. She couldn't change one bit of his becoming Captain America. Nothing had to hold him back in New York; and certainly not her.

And so she put on the cloak of her playful persona. 'Or I can engage in the army and fight by your side,' she teased.

He laughed. 'I know you would –'

'…kick a lot of ass?' she finished with a smirk.

He smiled. 'I was about to say _do very well_ , but your phrasing is way more visual.'

She liked the fact his growing up in the forties didn't make him diminish her abilities as a woman. Plus, he couldn't forget he had seen her in action with the thief. She still wished he could fully appreciate the reality of her superficially humorous remark. Alas, she could never let him find out this side of her.

Steve stared for a bit too long. It wasn't enough, he craved for a better closure; one that would put his mind at rest. She had to deflect it and remind him of the reality that awaited him.

'And don't forget you'll be with your best friend and with Peggy,' she said.

He furrowed his brows. Natasha's smile didn't come out as broad as she intended to.

'It's her, isn't it?' she asked.

Those were a few words but they made a whole lot of sense to the two of them.

'What makes you say that?' he asked, slightly shifting position.

'Please, anyone in this room could see it. Shall I go ask the barman to convince you for good?' she teased with a smirk.

Steve smiled lightly then broke eye contact for a couple of seconds.

'Yes, it's her,' he replied softly. He sighed and his shoulder twitched for a brief shrug. He seemed to have a hard time understanding his own thoughts. 'But things are not as clear as they used to be. Time has passed and I don't know if everything has remained the same.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?' she asked. She was confused, scared even. The reports she had read before coming didn't have any information regarding Steve's thoughts and doubts, therefore he couldn't tell whether his current state of mind was a logical step in his journey or not.

She interrogated him with her gaze. This was when Barnes stepped in with a bigger question mark on his face than hers.

'Did I come back too soon?' he asked, forty percent concerned, sixty percent amused.

Steve, who was still looking at her, eventually detached his gaze from her. She dared him not to do it, but it appeared Steve from 1942 was just as daring and stubborn than the one from her time.

'No. We're good,' he spoke softly then turned to his friend.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. And two days later, Steve and Barnes were headed to Europe.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's note: Thank you for those who took the time to leave a review. It means a lot! Thanks for all the follows and favourites. You guys rock!

Natasha finally got the delivery she was expecting. One morning, she heard a muffled noise behind her door and found a yellow enveloppe had ben slipped under. The shadow she could see standing behind on the hallway vanished just as quickly as it arrived. She picked up the enveloppe and checked the content. A passport with her picture made under a random alias. Lauren Farrel. It was even better than running the risk to leave any physical evidence of Natalie Rushman in case Steve tried to find her after she had gone; and part of her now feared he would indeed try to search for her.

By the end of the day she had booked her flight tickets.

Steve called a few days later to her surprise, only a week after he had left for Europe. He said he got a few days off and took it as an opportunity to come back to New York city for the weekend. She suspected this little get away was an excuse to see her when he could have just stayed in Europe until his next mission.

She went to meet him that same evening, dressed in a silky white dress. She walked across the venue and could swear she saw Steve and Barnes lean backwards on their seats when she approached. They both got up their seats and stood like gentlemen while rearranging their uniforms.

She greeted Barnes, who kissed her white-gloved hand with a dwelling look and an alluring smile. She then went up to Steve who welcomed her with a grin and a spontaneous hug he shortened right away not to embarrass her.

The three of them went sit at a table and watched the band as they performed on stage while couples were twisting on the dancefloor.

'How's Europe?' she asked.

'I'm afraid not as exciting as here,' Barnes spoke, slumping on the seat. 'Women there aren't as pretty as you.'

She shook her head.

'When did you even find time to meet women on your camp?' she exclaimed.

Steve smirked.

'Don't ask,' he said. 'For Bucky, it's a talent. There is no place isolated enough for him not to come across ladies.'

Barnes grinned proudly behind him as if Steve had just told his most heroic adventure.

'Oh, so I take it you also found a way to entertain yourself with some ladies, didn't you Captain Rogers?' she purred.

His cheeks notably flushed.

'No, no,' he aswered, shaking his hand. 'I'd never do that. As you said so yourself, I'm not that comfortable around women.'

She smirked.

'Maybe because she's never quite the woman you have in mind,' she said, referring to Peggy.

'Yeah, Steve!' Barnes chimed in. 'Maybe because she's never quite the woman you have in mind.'

He smirked smugly at what she assumed was also a reference to agent Carter.

'Give me a break,' Steve said, rolling his eyes. His best friend's teasing had been going wild for a while apparently and started to wear him out.

A new song began, as a faster pace than the one before.

'Natalie, will you do me the honor?', Barnes asked as he stood up and stretched his hand to her.

She smiled.

'It was about somebody make me dance!,' she answered. She left her purse to Steve and held Barnes hand. He made her stand up and led her to the dancefloor.

Following this unfamiliar tempo turned out to be easier than she had thought and it seemed that her dancing skills knew no limits of genre or beat. Barnes made her sway right and left, twirled her till an ecstatic laughter escaped her lips.

Never had she thought she would be dancing with the man who was the reason why she had travelled to the past in the first place, even less she had thought she would be dancing for pure entertainment and find pleasure in it.

She threw a glimpse at Steve, who was watching them both from their table, a large smile on but a hint of envy.

'I'm glad he met you,' Barnes said after she twirled back into his arms. She frowned in confusion. 'I can see what he saw in you and I'm glad you were the one who kept him company while I was away.'

She nodded slightly and for a moment happiness totally slipped out of her. She hated the void and the confusion she would leave behind in Seve's life. She now knew Steve would never accept it as easily as she first thought he would.

'Thanks for telling me that,' she said. 'I'm glad and honored I was the one who kept him company.'

Barnes smiled at her then put his mind back into the music, he swayed her again with the music.

When the song ended, they both returned to the table and Barnes apologized before heading off to freshen up in the gents.

'How was it?' Steve asked as she sat back in her seat.

'It was thrilling. Now I get why people are so obssessed with those parties,' she said, shaking her veil in front of her face to get fresh air . She had read a lot about the fourties and the proiferation of venues and ballrooms, but it was another thing to experience it. There was a natural joy, despite the sad times of war, that made people more ecstatic in this decade than hers.

'Bucky is quite a dancer,' Steve smiled lightly. He looked her straight in the eye an instant after. 'I'm happy to see you,' he spoke softly. 'I'm sorry, I lost my manners and didn't find the good opportunity to say it sooner, but I really looked forward to this night.'

She stared intently. 'I'm happy to see you, too,' she answered. She could tell a part of him feared his going away to war would affect their friendship and grow them apart. He seemed to make every bit of effort not to let it happen.

He rubbed his jaw nervously. 'And you look beautiful, tonight', he added. His compliment affected her more than the countless other men, during missions or in the daily life, who had said the exact same words to her. Her heart glowed at the realization Steve looked at her that way. An unreasonable part of her wanted him to find her attractive.

She smiled a smile she had never used with him until then. A seductive smile? It was every shade of wrong and she knew it, but at this exact moment, it just felt...right.

'Better than Marleen Monroe, I have no doubt,' he commented.

It made her smile. 'It's Marilyn,' she said.

He closed his eyes and whinced. 'Almost right.'

'I promise I won't tell her,' she murmured with a teasing smile then mimed to zip her mouth and throw the key away.

Barnes came back a few minutes later. The conversation focused on their latest mission with the help of the Howling Commando, not that she didn't know with the headlines.

It was quite amazing how she had witnessed the transition from Captain America, the musical star to the war hero. He was slowly becoming the figure she had always known before coming here.

Barnes was the first to start every anecdote or embarrassing story related to Steve the commando for their past week. Steve was always the one to follow gladly with his personal live commentary.

Music slowed down and couples started to raise to their feet to head for a more intimate dance. She watched in silence, both curious and perhaps, even if she wouldn't admit, expectant.

'I'm gonna go get us some drinks,' Steve announced after clearing his throat then went to the bar.

She couldn't help let her attention turn on him and she watched him as he ordered his drinks to the barman and waited quietly while tapping his fingers on the bar.

'Trust me, he wants to', Barnes said next to her.

She slightly startled and diverted her eyes to him.

'Pardon?', she asked.

The corner of his mouth went up. 'To dance. Nothing would please him more than to invite you.'

She glanced back at Steve who was now absently looking at the band playing on stage, showing not one bit of interest in the matter. She looked back at Barnes who still had his smirk on.

'Then why doesn't he? he knows I would never decline.'

Barnes took glimpse at his friend then at her. 'Steve is a man of word,' he explained, twitching his shoulder up. 'He sort of made a promise to someone -although I would say he made it more to himself, really- and he's got too much honor to break it.'

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued and yet not surprised. This was the Steve she had always known.

'Is that why you asked me to dance?' she asked. 'To make it up for him?'

He shook his head and laughed lightly.

'There's nothing I wouldn't do for Steve,' he confessed unashamedly. 'But I never said I am as noble as him. I never say no for a dance with a lady.'

He smiled cockily. Barnes had the amazing ability to be both a gentleman and a naughty boy, and he had the talent to quickly switch from one persone to another. That made him unpredictable and she liked it. She had leanred all her life to deal with unpredictable until becoming it, too. She knew it was in his nature to be a flirt but she also knew he would never do anything that would hurt his best friend. So far, he could tell he had not reached that line yet, mostly because he had understood she wasn't the kind of woman to get easily offended.

She turned and looked at Steve again. Wondering how the circumstances of such a promise had been made to Peggy (because she knew it could only be to Peggy). And just as Barnes, she refused to let her selfish desire come on the way. As badly as she wanted him to invite her to dance, she also forbid herself to be the woman who would give him his first dance. Peggy was, and was to remain, his only best girl.

'Natalie? Natalie?', she heard. She was pulled out of her reverie and music and discussions became loud again. She turned to Barnes who looked at her with a frown on his face.

'I'm sorry,' she said. "You were saying?'

He looked at her closely then looked away and shook his head with an amused chuckle.

'I was inviting you to dance but it seems I'm not quite the man you had in mind.'

His words echoed hers from before then he averted his eyes to look in the same direction she was before he interrupted her thoughts. Steve was standing by the bar, picking up the drinks.

Barnes' conniving look and the realization that was slowly growing within overwhelmed her.

'I-I'm sorry. I just need to go freshen up.'

She raised to her feet, Barnes stood up politely and watched as she made her way out of the ballroom. He sat back and she heard him whisper to himself in utter confusion: 'What is it wrong with me becoming totally invisible?'

She swiftly went past Steve without any explaination and rushed to the ladies room. She locked the door behind her and leaned on the marble lavatories. She watched in disarray as she looked herself in the mirror but didn't recognize her reflection.

'What are you doing, Natasha?' she whispered to herself, trying to shake some sense into herself. She felt like she was failing her mission on a level she had never experienced herself. On an amotional level.

She came back to her seat five minutes, looking as fresh and composed as when she had first walked in.

At the end of the evening, she said goodbyes to the boy, looked at Steve longer than she she should have then took a cab home. She dropped the keys on the cabinet in the corridor, dropped her purse on the armchair in her bedroom then she let herself fall on the bed. She took her heels off and dropped her head back at the edge of the mattress. She looked at the white ceiling on which shadows from the outside weree reflecting and one single thought obssessed her at this moment. How badly she wanted Steve to be with her, right here, right now.

She watched the ceiling in the silence as she thought of him stroking her face and slowly coming nearer and nearer to her lips. She imagined him kissing her. First gently, innocently, then with a passion betraying his vivid longing. She wanted him to kiss her like she was the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted. She wanted him to be lying on top of her as he would finally let go of her mouth to taste her neck then her collarbone. She wanted his hands to roam over every curve of her body with unaldterated boldness but a sheer tenderness. She wanted his fingers to leave a trail of goosebumps on every inch of skin they would graze. She wanted him to breathe in her neck and whisper her name in her ear like a chanting as their two bodies would move together in a perfect rhythm. She wanted to cling onto his strong back as moan of pleasure would burst out of her mouth.

Yes, right here, right now, she wanted Steve more than she had ever wanted any man. She didn't want some basic sex, she wanted Steve to make love to her slowly, tenderly, passionately and to worship her like she was the goddess of his heart, his body and his very soul.

She wanted all of that and she knew she couldn't have it. She took her eyes off the ceiling and rolled to lie on her stomach. She let out a grunt of frustration.

His awkwardness was adorable, his sweetness made him hot, his bashfulness made him sexy. This was all his fault!

'Damn you, Rogers', she groaned then buried her face into the blanket.


	9. Chapter 9

Natasha woke up the next morning with a bitter taste. As much as she wanted to see Steve, she couldn't ignore the fact it felt different now; not when all she wanted from him, he couldn't give her; not without breaking Thor's first rule and jeopardizing the mission.

But she was Natasha Romanoff. She would get up and go meet with Steve and act like nothing was different. She had been trained not to let her emotions dictate her behavior. She was stronger than this. Love -infatuations-, all this was for children. She could overcome it until it woud vanish away on its own.

She went to the bathroom and had a long, relaxing bath. She played all the details of her plan over and over while lying in the hot water; mostly to keep herself from thinking of him. She could finish the job without putting her mission, or her identity, in peril and she would go back to the future, to her present, where she would let time heal her.

She wore a purple lace dress and tied her hair up in a messy bun. She looked herself in the mirror and found nothing but a blank expression that betrayed feelings that were doomed to remain unsolved.

She opened the drawer and looked at the little Asgardian device she had kept hidden there since it had brought her here. She took it between her fingers and looked at it with bewilderment. It was still incredible what such a small thing had accomplished. Part of her looked forward to using it again soon and go back to where she belonged, far from he who caused so much disarray in her mind, far from where her heart could be harmed.

Steve was flying back to Europe the next day, early in the morning and today was their last day before another couple of weeks apart. She was supposed to meet with him and Barnes at the theater. Apparently, Barnes was fond of plays and other farces. He couldn't stop, incidentally, complain about how his biggest regret was to have never seen Steve's show.

The cab pulled over and Natasha got out of the car. She walked inside the theater and her heart raced when she found Steve standing by the door frame next to the room where people were sitting down before the beginning of the play. She smiled and went up to him only to find a stern look in response.

'What are you doing here, taking root by this door?' she teased.

He hardly smiled. 'We need to talk,' he said.

She furrowed her brows for a second and clutched her coat. 'Sure, but aren't we going to miss the begining of the play?'

He stepped aside to let a couple walk through then shot a quick look inside the theater.

'It can wait,' he spoke coolly and held her arm before taking her to a more quiet area down the hallway. She let herself taken away and held back a gasp of surprise.

Her mind couldn't help remind her it looked like the beginning of her naughtiest fantasies. She kicked this thought away just as quickly. Judging by the confused and somewhat hard frown on his face, a little birdy told her he wasn't thinking the same.

'What is it?' she asked.

Steve looked behind them to make sure they were alone.

She smirked. 'You know it wouldn't be good for both our reputations to be caught here in this dark -'

'I know everything,' he cut her off sharply.

His words took a long time to sink in. _Everything_ could either mean nothing or all of it.

'What do you mean _you know_?' she inquired with a slow, hesitant pace. What had he possibly found out over the course of a night?

He glanced behind them again then looked straight at her and sighed.

'Don't deny it. I know you lied to me,' he spoke.

It was her turn to take a glimpse behind them.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she answered in a low voice.

'You're not who you say you are,' his voice had gotten one tone harsher.

Okay. Now it was getting alarming. She also knew it was too early to jump to conclusions. She would remain quiet until he would spill it all (cause really, he was the one spilling everything so far).

'I know you're not a journalist,' he said with a disappointed voice. 'Bucky made some research.'

Her mouth gaped open. The little snoop. And the snoop was also a snitch. And where was he hiding now? She rolled her eyes mentally. She knew she should have snuffed him the second she met him, like accidentally shove him in front of a bus and she wouldn't have been in this situation.

She blinked a few times and prepared her best act.

'What?' she exclaimed. He shushed her and threw a glance behind them. 'What?' she repeated with a whispering voice but with an even better scandalized expression. 'Why did he say that?'

She stood back straight and gently brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. 'Clearly, because his ego was hurt after I let him know he wasn't the one I wanted to dance with,' she spoke very casually and subtlety.

A subtlety he picked on just as she wanted.

'Bucky wouldn't...,' he started matter-of-factly then paused. She looked at him with big innocent eyes. 'What do you mean 'the one you wanted to dance with'? Did you wanto to do with someone in p-'

He shook his head throughly. 'No, no!' he spoke firmly, his hand following the same motion. 'You're not getting out of it so easily. I want to know the truth, so stop playing games.'

Well, it was worth a try. It seemed Steve from 1943 kept a cool head under all circumstances just like modern Steve.

'I'm not playing games,' she retorted with a grin.

They heard footsteps behind them. It added more pressure to the two of them.

'Then answer me,' he groaned.

His words, the pressing tone of his voice, the look of betrayal on his face, the whole situation; it hit her like an old memory. One that wouldn't happen until sevety years from now in a hospital.

It amused her. She glanced at the wall one feet behind her then looked him up and down.

'Are you going to tackle me against this wall next, Rogers?', she asked with a playful smirk on.

The frown he had been having on his face since the beginning fell flat and was replaced by confusion. His features softened.

'What?' he murmured in sheer bewilderrment. 'Of course not. I'd never do that.'

She cocked an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth rose slightly.

'You might want to remember that,' she purred with a sly look, leaning in towards him, their faces not so far apart, the same way they were that day of 2014 when he pressed her to give the flash drive back. She counted on him not to remember her words though, so she could tease him with it when the right time would come.

Steve pulled away and lowered his head, looking at the floor, hands on his hips, a sigh coming out of his mouth.

'I said no lying,' he breathed out, more mentaly worn out than physically. 'Can you do that?'

She crossed her arms and shrugged. They both knew this would count as a yes.

She now had three options, really.

A- Tell the truth

B- Lie

C- Try a diversion (although, she had some doubt it would work with _him_ )

'Bucky said he never of your magazine. I tried to find a number in the phone book and-'

'You checked in a phone book instead of asking _me_? I thought we were friends!' she put on her best outraged expression.

'Huh-huh,' he interrupted her with a dull tone. 'Diversion doesn't work with me. I grew up with Bucky.'

Natasha rolled her eyes. So this is where his awareness and his resilience came from? A childhood with Barnes. She knew option C wasn't one to use on Steve.

He took one step closer.

' _Soldiers' Houwewives magazine_ doesn't exist,' he said matter-of-factly, slowly, to let the harsh truth sink in.

She rose her eyebrow.

'It doesn't?' she asked with an incredulous look that immediately turned into a devious smile. 'Well, that's a waste cause it would have been one hell of a magazine.'

'Nat!,' he threatened loudly then shut his mouth for fear of prying ears. She could tell his toning up his hard looks and tone only unveiled his decrease of anger and him being on the verge to yeld in and go soft.

'You're the one who asked for the truth,' she defended innocently.

He looked her deep in the eye. The intensity of his gaze overwhelmed her in a voluptuous way he certainly didn't have in mind at this exact second.

'Fine. I lied,' she sighed. 'I saw the way you were interacting with the women asking for an autograph or a date and I didn't want you to give me that same look of horror and think I was just a fan.' He rolled his eyes at the words ' _look of horror_ '. 'I made up the name of a magazine to sound more plausible.'

His features relaxed. Steve Rogers enjoyed the sound of truth way too much for her liking. It soothed him the same way telling a lie put her mind at ease.

'So then why did you come to me that night?', he asked.

She had to remain credible. Credible.

'Because I really wanted to write an article about the person behind Captain America,' she said softly, her pupils penetrating his eyes with a comforting halo of candor. 'I just knew there was so much more to write about him than what the world think they know about the other one.'

Her voice was serene, tender, loaded with genuine affection. She wished she could have chosen option A. Truly. But option B was the easier, faster, safer way to reassure him on her intentions, keep the real purpose of her presence hidden and to preserve her identity.

His pupils first remained still then quivered as they suddenly filled with a mix of so many emotions she couldn't tell them all apart. She identified warmth though, relief, care and gratitude.

He leaned closer, and she held her breath in without realizing. He gently lifted his hand, and softly, carefully, let his fingers slide down the curly lock of hair tickling the side of her face.

She felt his warm breath caress her skin as he breathed out slowly as if cautious not to make an abrupt move that would scare her away.

'Sorry,' he murmured eventually, then a smile rose across his face. 'And thank you.'

It was like she had just told him every word he had hoped she would say and beyond.

He walked her to the main room with an expression of relief and perhaps also of embarrassment. As if he knew he had been bit too...dramatic. But again, he couldn't help it. She had spent enough time with him to know he had a tendency to feel things passionately.

Barnes was waiting for them, a look of unhidden curiosity on, eager to decypher how the conversation had gone. He concluded the problem had been solved by the relaxed demeanor of his best friend.

Steve halted and waved for her her to go first, making her sit between the two of them. The music started, the red curtain opened and the whole audience quit whispering.

'I take it you got your little trial?', Barnes murmured to her with a snort.

She slightly turned her head towards him.

'Thanks to you,' she whispered back, a tad reproachful. 'That was a low blow, Barnes.'

She heard him chuckle lightly.

'That's not how it happened. All I did was say the magazine didn't ring any bell. Not my fault if Steve overreacted. It's just the way he is.'

She shook her head and smiled., believing him readily. The actors were now reciting their lines on stage .

'I know,' she commented. She tilted her head towards him and they shared an amused smile.

'Looks like you passed the test, anyway' he said.

She gave him a judgmental look then both resumed to enjoy the play.

When the red curtain closed, the three of them stood up and left the theater. The atmosphere was relaxed, back to what it had always been. It was dark outside and time for dinner. Barnes immediately mentioned a nice restaurant that was only one block away.

They arrived less than fifteen minutes later. Steve was the first to help her remove her coat and hand it over to the waiter. She thanked him and he replied with a bashful smile. Although he had gotten over her lie, it was like he was trying to redeem himself for his behavior now.

'So did you tr to sell the interview to a newspaper?', he eventually asked during the meal, with genuine interest. She know iit wasn't an attempt to pry.

Honestly, the 'scraps' of the interview were taking dust in the drawer of her bedside cabinet.

'No,' she answered. 'And I don't think I will.'

Steve tilted his head, watching her silently. She glanced them at her plate then back at him.

She shook her head. 'I realized this interview was too personal. All those things you said; you shared them with me as a friend. It is fair, as a friend, not to make any of it public.'

She smiled at him when she said those words and he reciprocated it with a tender expression. He thanked her with a nod and she realized how all these so-called professional meetings, all these confidences he made, served the sole purpose of spending time in her company.

Barnes interrupted their silent dialogue with a moan.

'Does that mean I won't know any of it?', he asked. 'Am I really the only one around this table who was actually excited to read this interview?'

'Well, if you insist, I can share the bit where Steve mentioned your fondness for street gambling.'

His eyes opened wide. He swallowed the piece of his steak with a loud gulp. 'I don't...never did that.'

Natasha and Steve exchanged a look and chuckled.

Right before dessert, Steve left the table to go have a chat with the little boy who hadn't stopped staring at him from his table ever since he and his family had arrived to have dinner.

Natasha watched as Steve knelt down in front of the boy's chair and raised his fingers to his forehead to greet him the military way. The little boy, first numb, mirrored the gesture only with more stiffness. Steve smiled and engaged the conversation.

Her gaze widened slightly as she watched how he was a natural at this. She had never really taken the time, all those years long, to wonder whether her team leader had ever thought about becoming a father and whether it was one of his biggest regrets. She had spent so much time fighting by his side, watching him make strategic decisions and taking down enemies but they had never taken the time to discuss this subject nevertheless. And yet tonight, for the first time, she saw this other side of him; Steve as a family father. It suddenly struck her that Steve had lost so much more than many decades of his life and all the people he cared aboout when he woke up in 2012; he had most importantly lost the life he had always wanted for himself.

She blinked slowly, a lump growing in her throat. As honored as she could feel to witness all of his past life, part of her ached for the one he had never have a chance to get when his plane crashed into the ice.

Her mission was very clear, saving Steve Rogers' life. And as confident as she was to accomplish it, it would still remain half a success only. What about his life here in 1943? Wasn't she supposed to save it, too? What if, in order to save him fully and completely, she had to make sure he would never have to leave the time to which he truly belonged. Wouldn't she call her mission a real success, then? Allowing him to have the life he had always wanted even it that meant losing him for good, knowing she wouldn't find him back in 2015.

Steve Rogers belonged to 1943, to Barnes, to Peggy; he did not belong to 2015, to the Avengers nor to her. He never had. They...she had no right to be selfish and want him all for herself. What if the real purpose of her travel to the past was to give him his entire life back? To give him the quiet and peaceful life any soldier deserved after coming back from the war. When did Steve ever find peace and quiet ever since he had woken up from his 66-year-long sleep? He woke up only to fight more wars and battles that weren't even his. She and the Avengers had discussed for so long for the perfect plan to save him but none o fthem had considered this time travel could be a way to solve the most important error in this series of mistakes. Maybe...surely that was what she owed him: the peaceful life he had missed the first time around.

'You're not really a journalist, are you?' Barnes spoke softly beside her. She turned to look at him. 'Magazine or no magazine.'

He didn't really expect any answer. He smiled and shook his head lightly.

'It's easy to tell. And in a way, I am sure somewhere deep down Steve could figure it out too. But it's just that he didn't want to,' he explained serenely then turned to look at his best friend who was now inviting the boy to touch the medal on his uniform. 'Why, you may wonder?' Barnes continued, staring at the boy stroking the medal and at the cheerful smile on Steve's face. 'Not because he's a fool who can easily be duped but fundamentally because it is inconceivable for Steve that someone he cares about isn't as immaculate as he sees them.'

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds and it struck her how true his words were. She had witnessed it herself. She had watched Steve fight to salvage Barnes' soul at the cost of his own life. And never once he had doubted he could pull his best friend out of the Winter Soldier and that Bucky was gone forever and thus because of that same principle Barnes had just mentioned.

'And now what?', she asked with a murmuring voice.

Barnes eyed her intently. 'And now I am going to enjoy my last evening in town with my best friend and my other friend,' he said with a shrug. He raised his glass to this evening and drank a sip.

By the end of the evening, the time to part arrived. The three of them stood in the middle of the sidewalk, all reluctant to hail a cab that would take her away from them for the next couple of weeks.

Barnes was the first to step forward. He softly took her hand and kissed the top of it with a malicious and conniving look. He then smirked and stepped away.

She stood there and looked in silence as Steve hesitantly walked forward, trying to let these last seconds linger on. He stood in front of her, looking down at her with nothing but the silence of the night as their sole company.

'I'm gonna wait for you round the corner,' Barnes said, pointing to a random direction as usual. 'I just saw something I want to check out.'

'Did you catch sight of a shell game being played round that corner?', Steve teased with a smirk.

His best friend's face dropped immediately.

'You know what, Steve?' he commented sternly with a cocked eyebrow then walked off.

Steve smiled before turning back to Natasha.

'Natalie,' he started with bashful expression. 'I wanted to say how sorry I am for what happened earlier. I think I panicked because it made me doubt the real reason why a woman like you would want to spend so much time with a man like me. It didn't make sense anymore. It never made sense if it weren't for professional matters.'

'Steve,' she cut him off. 'A woman like me?'

He turned confused as if she had just said nonsense.

'Don't you know?', he exclaimed with a kind smile. 'You are the most surprising, intelligent, beautiful, fascinating woman I have ever met. And I never ceased to be this shy, bony kid from Brooklyn.'

He stopped as if it didn't need any further explanation. She heard him say each and every one of those words from the deepest spot inside of him. She lifted her hand and softly pressed his arm.

'If I am half the woman you say I am then you must know I have every reason to want to spend time with him.'

He looked at her in awe, speechless.

She waved to the cab approaching to pull over. She then turned her attention back to him, stood on her tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek.

She left his side (because she had to do it before she would do something she ould regret) and stepped towards the taxi.

'I'll miss you,' she whispered softly regardless of the fact she was breaking her own rule as she knew it was what he needed to hear at this moment. He swallowed hardly and nodded, she then forced herself to divert her eyes and got in the car.


	10. Chapter 10

Things were different now. Her plans had changed. It wasn't just about saving Barnes, now. She had to change Steve's fate, too. And that meant staying here longer. She had to think of a way to prevent Steve plunging this plane into the ice; and this, without compromising her cover.

She had thought this through and knew all the consequences this decision would have on the future. And on her. She knew it meant saying farewell to Steve. She was ready to travel back to a future where Captain America would be a hero from the past. And as much as it pained her to lose him again, she knew this time it would be for a happier outcome. Yes, she would return to a future where Steve Rogers was dead, but not just as a public hero, as an old man and beloved husband and father. She could live a lifetime without him as long as he had had the one he deserved and which was his to take in the first place. As for her teammates, she wouldn't have to go through hearing Stark give her an earful about her decision since he wouldn't remember the former timeline at all. To him, Steve Rogers would only be this super soldier with whom his father worked during the Second World War.

Part of her wondered, though, how she would live her life after that. The price to pay for this rectification was her remembering all of it. Remembering the timeline she would have altered, remembering meeting Steve in 1942 and falling for him. She guessed that was what she could call her punishment. Awareness always was the heavy burden to carry among those who were oblivious. Stark, Thor and the others would carry on in their lives without ever suspecting a thing while she would keep every fragment of those memories which would be just as real as the rest of this new universe.

She considered about staying in 1942 for good. Maybe living a life as Steve's friend, or just even as a shadow was a good option; a way to keep him tangible in her world, but she knew this would go against the very quintessence of her new plan. Just like Steve didn't belong to her world, she didn't belong to his. She didn't exist in his timeline and she never would.

They had had the extraordinary chance to meet, bending all the rules of the universe, but now that she was willing to restore the balance, it inevitably meant being pulled apart for the simple and tragic reason that they didn't belong to the same timeline. And as unfortunate and unfair it was, she had to resign herself to accepting that was the one and only natural order.

But this was a matter that would have to wait. She refused to let her original mission shift out of her sight.

She went to a hardware store in a quiet street of Brooklyn. The owner, a big man in his fifties, welcomed her with a silent look.

'May I help you, lady?' he asked from behind his counter when she was about to walk straight to an aisle on her own.

She turned and smiled dryly.

'No, thank you,' she answered politely, earning a dubious frown from him. He shrugged nonetheless and turned his back to resume tidying up the display behind him.

She walked slowly down the aisles, meticulously probing every article put on display and assessing whether it could be useful or come handy for her mission. She never was the kind of spy who needed a whole set of tools and other high-tech gadgets when going on field.; she had been trained the old-fashioned way: use her skills first then improvize with her environment. Thankfully, it was a real strength now in 1943. This shop owner surey couldn't boast of offering the most practical apparatus to any field agent in need.

She also knew she wouldn't be able to carry much. Lock picks, nylon cable ties and acid; as useful as they would be, they all screamed 'intruder on the move'.

She went to the cash desk and scrutinized the shelves behind. She caught sight of the only thing in the store that wouldn't raise attention: a Swiss army knife.

'I'm gonna take the Swiss knife behind you, please', she said, opening her purse and reaching for a bill.

The man stretched his hand up to the shelf, took the knife and put it on the counter.

'Didn't find what you were looking for?' he scoffed slightly as if he weren't very surprised. 'You should have come with your husband. _He_ would have known what tools to take.'

She gave him a hard look.

'That's it! Silly me,' she exclaimed with a groan. 'I knew I was forgetting something when I left the house.'

He stared at her with one hand propped on the counter. It seemed his appreciaion of sarcasm was just as limited as his open-mindedness to gender equality.

'Do you know where I could find a store selling women sportswear?' she asked while he cashed the money.

'Sportswear?' the man snorted looking her up and down. 'What kind of sports clothes?'

'You know, a tight suit,' she said. The look of sheer confusion and disapproval on his face showed women overalls weren't a thing yet. 'Or tight pants? Light and comfortable?'

'What for?' he finally asked out loud.

She stared again. She suspected her look was colder than the one she had given before. 'I'm starting yoga classes.'

'Yo-what?' he exclaimed.

She discreetly rolled her eyes.

'It's alright. I'll find a store myself. Thanks for your amiability,' she said and walked out of the shop.

She went to numerous stores until she finally found a pair of comfortable low heel shoes and a dark blue jumpsuit that was elegant but still moving comfort. She dearly missed her catsuit right now but this outfit would have to do. She remembered that time she took down a whole security team in a strapless tigh slit dress and louboutins during an opera in Vienna. This new mission surely wouldn't be as...acrobatic.

Steve and Barnes were back in town for a week for what she knew would be the last time before heading for her mission.

'Are you alright?', Steve asked her while she was absently looking at the people dancing on the dance floor. Barnes had found himself a partner who couldn't be more thrilled to be dancing with a soldier wearing the unirform.

She looked at him and put on her best smile.

'Yeah,' she exclaimed half-heartedly. 'I guess I'm just being a little nostalgic.'

Nostalgic was a light word to describe the turmoil currently wiping every away in her mind and her heart. She knew she was spending one of her last moments with Steve.

He gave her a sympathetic smile that quickly turned cheerful before gently pressing her hand resting on the velvet sofa between them.

'I don't know how long it will take before the end of the war but I know we're on the trail of the Red Skull and Hydra. It's only a matter of time before we defeat them.'

'Then you can come back home,' she said with a smile. This was the only positive thought she had to ease up her heavy mind. This was the one that was worth all the sacrifices she was soon to make.

'I guess so. I don't know to be honest.'

She furrowed her brows.

'What do you mean?' she asked.

Steve looked hesitant, nervous. Perhaps even shameful.

'Nothing would make me happier than hearing the war's over but...being a soldier, fighting for justice and freedom, this is when I feel whole. This is when I feel I am me,' he said. 'Frankly, I know I have found my purpose when I'm Captain America, but what will happen to him once the war is over?'

She eyed him closely.

'You can become anyone you want to be, Steve,' she said. After all this was what she was ready to fight for; so he could get a chance of staying in the 1940s, so he could have the choice to become whoever he wanted to be. Even choose wrongly and fail, again and again until he would find the right path for him. 'A policeman, a governmental agent, an artist.'

He nodded. 'I know. I think about it a lot, and the same question always haunts me: what if it's not enough? What if I'm not happy?'

She looked deep into his eyes. 'Are you happy now, Steve?'

He didn' know, but this question meant everything to her.

He looked away, rubbed his jaw then glanced back at her with a smile.

'I think I am,' he spoke softly. 'I feel like I have finally found my place in the world.'

His answer disturbed her. It somehow shook down her new plan. Steve just said he felt whole as Captain America and yet she had spent enough time with him in the future to know that he wasn't; that he was missing a piece. Maybe this Steve had no idea yet how much he treasured his life in Brooklyn in 1943, but surely it was something the other Steve had gotten to realize after losing it. Reason why she wanted to prevent it before it would happen.

Barnes came back a few minutes later. Alone.

'Oh we have to go the movies on Friday before we head back to Europe,' he said. 'There's this film that came out, _Shadow of a doubt_ , made by this English guy everybody knows in Europe, Alfred Hitchcock. The critics are good, what do you think?'

'I've seen it a dozen times,' Natasha said under breath. Steve Barnes gawped at her. 'Read. I mean I've read about it a dozen times.'

'Great! That means you're in!' he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

'I guess I am,' she answered with a smirk, 'Not that I had a saying in the matter.'

'Don't even try. I haven't had a saying in the matter since 1925,' Steve commented matter-of-factly, shooting a crafty look in his best friend's direction.

'Oh shut up. You came up with 50% of the shenanigans we ever committed and you know it.'

Steve smirked. '40%,' he protested in a deadpan voice.

Barnes gave him a crafty smile then went on to dance again.

After a few more dances, Barnes came back to the table and grabbed his coat.

'Sorry guys, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to call it a day,' he said to them.

'What are you talking about? It's barely 10 p.m,' Steve snorted.

'Yeah well I'm back home for a week and tonight should therefore be a celebration which, it seems, Margaret is keen to celebrate with me,' he explained, glancing behind at his dance partner then turning to them with a suggestive smirk plastered on the face.

Natasha and Steve both rolled their eyes although it was probably for different reasons. For Steve, it appeared to be mostly because it was a deja-vu he was getting fed up to live over and over again.

'Wish me good luck,' Barnes winked.

'Don't push it,' Natasha retorted.

He leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek.

'If this is any consolation, it tears my heart apart to have to cut the evening short,' he teased. 'I promise I'll keep you in my thoughts.'

She made a face. 'Eww, I forbid you.'

It made the two boys smile then Barnes walked out of the venue accompanied with his conquest, a hand pressed on the small of her back.

Natasha turned to Steve whose expression seemed to reveal he was actually fine with his friend's precocious departure.

'So, how were the last two weeks?' she asked.

He shook his head and a sheepish chuckle came out of his lips.

'I wouldn't want to bore you to death with my stories from the battlefield,' he said humbly.

She propped her elbow on the table, rested her chin in the palm of her hand and looked at him closely.

'No, you wouldn't,' she purred. Seriously, he wouldn't. She was tired of piling up these dreadfully quiet weeks while waiting for his return. She craved some action. Like a biological need.

Steve smiled bashfully and complied. He went on to tell her about the him and the Howling Commando infiltrating a base from Hydra, the thrill he felt, the pride that took hold of him every time he was on the battlefield. She listened with much interest as she watched his face lit with excitement and content. She understood how gratifying it was for him to serve justice. It was something he had in his blood, just like she did, although it had taken her longer to find which side to fight for. Steve was born to become an Avenger. Captain America hadn't made the best out Steve; it was Steve who had molded Captain America from scratch.

'That was a good strategy,' she commented after he finished. 'Bold but good.'

He looked her with squinted eyes.

'I mean,' she coughed innocently. 'I'm not an expert or anything. I'm just saying.'

'Well, that's exactly the word the colonel used to describe it,' he said, not really surprised but impressed nevertheless.

She smiled then music filled the silence for a few seconds.

'Nat,' he started, nervously pinching the cloth laid on the table. 'There's something I wanted to show you.'

He seemed to take a deeper breath than the one before then plunged his hand under his coat. He pulled a sketchbook out and handed it to her very gently.

She took the book and looked at him quizzically.

'It's just a drawing I made,' he babbled with a nonchalant shrug. Her face lit up in excitement. 'But I think somehow you have every right to see it.'

She opened the sketchbook to the last page he had drawn on, not giving much thought to his words as she was too eager to finally get a look at his work. Her breath was cut sharp when she laid her eyes on the sketch. She looked in awe at the delicate lines and shadows drawn to put her own features on paper. The drawing was an outstanding, gentle portrait of her. Her face was slightly turned sideways, her eyes seeming to contemplate something with a perfect combination of determination and softness, a few locks of her wavy hair falling on her temple.

'It's just a rough draft,' Steve started. His seeming humility barely concealed the lie beneath. She could tell he had spent hours working on it. Moreover, it definitely didn't have the technique of an improvised sketch.

'It's beautiful,' she interrupted him, her eyes locked on the paper and unwilling to divert from it. She eventually raised her head and looked at him straight in the eyes. 'It's beautiful,' she repeated with even more gentleness and belief.

She had always wished Steve would open up enough that he would feel comfortable showing her his personal artwork, but never had she thought she would be the subject.

'It's my first try, really,' he justified sheepishly. 'I usually draw architecture…' he trailed off, slightly uncomfortable to voice out the rest of the sentence whose content she suspected greatly.

'And you chose me?' she murmured to herself. She knew what it meant and it both filled her with joy and sorrow. He hadn't randomly chosen to draw her because he wanted to have a try sketching people; he had drawn her because it fulfilled a need, the need to fill the void of her absence, and those hours he spent on this drawing had helped quench the waiting until the moment he would see her again.

'What made you show it to me?' she asked.

'I…,' he started slowly, serenity slowly taking over his nervousness. 'I guess it's a way to let you know that I don't forget you when I'm away.'

His words stabbed her with a pain. Her heart unexpectedly warmed at hearing them then ached immediately after. It was one thing to leave Steve behind her; it was another to go knowing he had developed romantic feelings for her.

And finally, her ultimate thought was made by the agent she was: she had failed in her mission. She had failed to get close to him while keeping an emotional distance. She had failed to remain an acquaintance that Steve would easily forget about, and now chances were that he would miss her; and, because she knew the kind of person he was, she had no doubt he wouldn't rest until he found her.

This simple thought frightened her beyond measure. She had traveled to the past, imagined a plan to save both him and his best friend, had eventually decided to ensure he would live the life he had always deserved in the timeline he belonged to, and now she was watching it all crumble because she hadn't been able to maintain her cover and not to compromise herself emotionally speaking.

'You shouldn't have drawn me,' she said, meaning she wasn't the woman he should have felt the need to draw on paper. It should have been Peggy. History says it should have been Peggy Carter. Her presence here couldn't interfere with this basic fact.

Her first instinct was to rectify her error. Because it was what she always been trained to do: to never accept failure; because she had to protect Steve regardless of her feelings and regardless of his own feelings. Nothing mattered more than accomplishing her mission and keeping him safe. Nothing. Not even a broken heart.

Steve looked at her quizzically, on the verge of letting the apprehension he had been holding back all evening come out to the light.

'Did…did I do something wrong?' he asked.

'No. I did,' she answered coldly, angry at herself.

She took one last look at the drawing and reluctantly closed the sketchbook. She couldn't look at this portrait any more second without feeling the pain and the guilt for what she was about to do rise within her.

'You're growing attached to me Steve and I can't let that happen,' the words scratched her throat on their way out.

He shut his agape mouth. 'Because you're not?' he asked, incredulous.

'It's different,' she said.

He had a look of consternation.

'What do you mean different?'

'You don't know me, Steve,' she spoke sharply.

Steve was in complete and utter disarray. Incomprehension was taking the best of him.

'But you said…Didn't you mean it when you said you'd miss me?' he inquired. 'Because I wasn't exactly truthful earlier, I am not just happy in my life right now because I'm in the army. It's because I've got everything I ever wanted and that includes-'

Her heart tore itself apart like a piece of silk for what she was about to voice aloud.

'I said what you needed to hear,' she interrupted him, refusing to hear any more of it. She spoke slowly, with a steady voice. She had learned to keep her composure under all circumstances. 'But the truth is, I only see you as an agreeable acquaintance.'

She loathed this calumnious lie although she looked him straight in the eyes so that her statement couldn't possibly be questioned in any way.

He believed it quickly, so quickly, as if she had uttered a simple fact he just had been blind not to see all along. Part of her was mad he put credits on her words so readily.

His breathing lost its natural pace and became notably jerky. He took control back of it and swallowed hardly.

She saw his heart break and hers broke along. He didn't suspect it, but it broke twice as much as his; one time for the pain she caused him, one time for the pain it caused her. But she had to do it. It would be easier for him to forget about her if he resented her (she wished she could say _hated her_ but she knew Steve didn't have room for hate in his heart). She didn't give much thought about how she would feel because this was the kind of hurt she had always lived with. She would go back to the future and carry this pain with her just like she always did. It certainly wouldn't be the first wrong she had committed but somehow it was the kind of red on her ledger she could deal with.

Now she hoped distance would be the most appropriate closure and the best way for him to heal from his infatuation now that she had stifled it before it could turn into something stronger.

'I don't want to be any kind of distraction,' she said. 'And I think it's time for us to part ways.'

It killed her a little inside to have to say farewell earlier than planned but she also knew it would be a lot less painful for the both of them.

She took her coat and her purse and left the table, swiftly walking across the dancing room to the exit. She put the coat on and stepped out on the street. A cold wind slapped her face and somehow and she didn't mind as it distracted her for a second from the turmoil in her heart. Pain was all she could feel at this moment.

'Natalie, wait!' she heard behind her as one hand took a grip of her arm and pulled her back. Steve made her turn and face him.

His face showed nothing other but disarray and hurt.

'Why?' he whispered, at loss of others questions to ask.

She felt a lump in her throat.

'I don't get attached to people,' she hissed. 'It's in my nature. Don't try to fight it.' A deep frown rose across his forehead. 'You'll be better off without can't see it yet, but trust me, you don't want to go down that road,' she said. 'You have to let me go, Steve.'

Her gaze was still, her voice imperturbable when she made this heartfelt request and yet every fibre of her body contradictorily begged him not to.

His chin trembled slightly then he looked her deep in the eye as he slowly loosened up the grip around her arm. He then let his hand fall in the air back to his side.

His pupils quivered until what would be his last word came out.

'Alright,' he whispered weakly, resigned.

She kept her steely look until she turned his back on him and left. She surrendered as a single tear fought its way out and rolled down her cheek while she silently walked in the dark street where her aching heart could weep in full discretion.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's note_ _: Thank you guys for the reviews and follows. Here's the next chapter. I must warn you, though, it's the last chapter before the epilogue. Yep, you read it right. LAST chapter. Enjoy and leave a review, please :)_

The next day was rough. For the first time in many weeks, Natasha went back to feeling the same she did when she was grieving for Steve. And in fact the truth was she had just lost him again and almost with the same violence as the first time. Not only had she pushed herself out of his life, she had done so by crushing his heart. Maybe he would forgive her – because it was in his nature, but never would she forgive herself.

It felt even harder to go through that day knowing he was in the city too, and this, for the next six days.

She forbade herself to go see him because she refused to afflict him even one more ounce of pain.

By the second day, she forbade herself to go watch him from a distance because she refused to afflict herself any more pain.

Three days later, she was walking in the quiet streets near Manhattan – as she refused to risk bumping into him in Brooklyn. As enjoyable New York City was in 1943, she was also projecting herself back in the future for many obvious reasons. Truth was this mission had turned out to be more mentally exhausting than expected and she now looked forward to ending it soon and going back to a more normal life (who would have thought she'd ever call her life 'normal'). And she missed Clint. In fact, she had missed him all those weeks long; she knew he would have found the right words to take her mind off of her sentimental issues (something like a tasteless joke that yet always had the knack to amuse her).

She walked back a post office when something caught of her attention. She halted and looked at it from where she was standing. An old propaganda poster with Steve, dressed as former USO show star Captain America. The paper had taken a brownish color and the corners and edges were worn out. _'Captain America salutes you for buying war bonds,'_ it read _._ It struck her how Steve had gone a long way and how lucky she was to have witnessed it. A little boy and his mother walked past in front of her, and she watched as the boy trailed off behind, slowing down his mother who was holding his hand as he looked up in awe at the poster.

'Mommy,' the boy exclaimed, shaking down her hand. 'I want to be like Captain America when I grow up.'

His mother turned, glanced at the poster than down at her son with a smile.

'And you're right, sweetie. The world could definitely use more heroes.'

She pulled her son's arm to make him resume walking. The boy complied and stepped away completely riveted by the picture and unable to divert his eyes until the distance made him.

Natasha was silent, stunned, as the undeniable reality caught her up. The world always needed heroes, and she knew her world was the one that needed the most. Steve's words from the other night echoed in her head, _'I feel whole when I'm captain America._ ' She realized how Captain America's path wouldn't be complete if she cut it short. Captain America was meant be the hero people would look upon: not just a super soldier of the Second World War but a timeless protector…an Avenger. She had been so blinded by her desire to give him the normal she thought he deserved that she forgot how extraordinary Steve had always been. And an extraordinary person was bound for a destiny greater than him. Although she had seen Steve miss his life from 1942, she never heard him thrive for a quiet one. In fact, Steve stopped being nostalgic as soon as he put on his Captain America and went to fight for freedom and justice. Yes, she could say he was whole during the many battles they had fought together.

And now she understood how she couldn't take that away from him and from all the other people in 2015 who needed a hero to give them hope. Perhaps, after all, his crashing in the ice was the gift made to her generation.

She couldn't obviously ignore the fact that the prospect of going back to a future where Steve would be pleased her immensely but she was positive she was making this new decision without putting her feelings and desires in the equation. She would let Steve meet with his destiny because, as much as she believed that people made their future, she liked the idea of a world being bestowed upon the hero it deserved.

Her decision was made: she wouldn't interfere with the future and let fate work its magic.

She waited by the corner of the road the next Friday evening with the cinema in sight. People started to step out and her eyes mechanically searched through the many faces to spot the ones she was looking for. She locked her gaze on Steve, dressed in civilian clothes, walking slightly behind Barnes, hands in his pockets and silent, while Barnes seemed to be enthusiastically commenting on the film they had just watched. Their demeanors were at opposite poles but it didn't seem to bother Barnes who was simply balancing it out with intense chatting.

She waited until the street cleared out, took a breath in and swiftly walked across the road towards them. She waited for them to turn round the corner to a less frequented street and sped up the pace.

'Steve,' she called.

He stood still instantly, faster than what it should normally be, as if his whole body had been programmed to halt at the sound of her voice. He turned and looked at her ardently. Barnes reacted two seconds later, slowed down and turned around with a quizzical look.

Steve hadn't detached his gaze and neither had she.

'Natalie?' he murmured in the softest way she had ever heard him say it. He said her name like he had believed he would never get to say it out loud ever again. His eyes expressed nothing other than gentleness and appeasement.

It soothed her, it destroyed her. Why didn't he hate her? She had spent the last six days loathing herself and here he was standing offering her nothing but leniency and consideration.

'I-I need to speak with you….in private,' she said in a calm voice but with pleading eyes.

Steve turned to his best friend. A simple look exchanged worked just as well as a whole conversation between them.

'I'll be in the diner on the 56th,' Barnes said.

Natasha glanced in his direction and nodded with a grateful expression. He pressed his lips together and slightly smiled at her before walking away. Barnes had no resentful feelings towards her and she couldn't explain why. She was pretty certain he knew about the whole situation. There was something incredibly unsettling in being the only person of the group who seemed to be blaming herself.

Barnes walked away and soon there were the only two people standing in the street.

'Steve,' she started. 'I'm leaving town and I came to tell you goodbye.'

His fairly composed expression fell flat.

'Why?,' he reacted first then cut himself off and bit his bottom lip. 'I'm sorry for asking. You don't owe me any explanation.'

'Actually, I do,' she retorted, taking a step up towards him. She looked up into his blue eyes. 'You're the only person in this city who deserves a proper goodbye.'

His chest rose up and a long breath slipped out of his mouth.

'It is time for me to leave but I couldn't do it without rectifying the truth,' she spoke softly. A little smile rose to her lips. 'After all, I'm the one who can never let go a chance to set the record straight when I can see the truth staring right at me.'

It brought her back to the first days after she arrived in 1942. It all seemed so far away now.

The tendons of his neck tensed up.

'What truth?' he asked.

She leaned closer and smiled. 'That you mean everything to me.'

She felt the heavy weight of her secret lift itself off her shoulders almost immediately. A weight, it seemed, she had been carrying for far longer than the past two months she had spent here. It all became clear that it all started long before 1942. How else could she explain that it had hurt her so much to lose him? That she had volunteered to travel back in time and taken the risk to die trying rather than accepting living in a world where he didn't exist anymore? She did it all for him, because he meant everything to her, and had for a longer time than she thought before she finally allowed herself to admit it.

His pupils probed her frantically then a halo of bliss fell over him. He released the breath he had been holding in since he had asked his question. He allowed a smile to rise to his lips. She smiled too, although hers was combined with sadness. He took one step forwards but she gently pressed her hand on his forearm to stop him.

'But I still have to go,' she continued faintly.

Steve seemed like he was drowning in an ocean of confusion.

'Circumstances are that I can't stay,' she explained. She took the step forwards she had refused him just before and reached for his face, delicately cupping the side of his jaw.

'And Steve you have to forget about me,' she murmured with a breaking voice, pleading him with her eyes. It killed her to make such a request after she had just cofessed her feelings but she would rather have him move on with a clear mind than leave him with a broken heart. 'You have to.'

He closed his eyes at the feel of her hand.

'This isn't the time for us…yet,' she smiled lightly. 'We met too early and it diverted you from your path. You need to go back on track. Nothing should matter more to you than the present: Hydra, your best friend, Peggy.'

'I don't understand,' he whispered.

She shook her head.

'I know it doesn't make sense for now but trust me I thought this through. It's the right way to go,' she assured him with an appeasing voice. She thought of her decision to let him continue on that road to fall into his fate. She had to do it to serve a purpose bigger than him. 'I hope you will forgive me for my decision – that you will understand why I made the choice I did – when the time comes, but the world could use more heroes and you are exactly the hero this world needs.'

She genuinely hoped he would understand why she had decided to let him make that sacrifice of his life in the forties.

'It is a high price to pay but...' she trailed off and looked him deep in the eye as she remembered his words in the SHIELD headquarters. '…somebody once said the price of freedom is always high.'

Steve eyed her intently as she smiled reassuringly at him, clearly confused and yet seeming to impregnate himself with her words. Well, his own words, really.

He rasied his hand reaching for the one still pressed against his cheek. He gently put it on top of hers and gave her a complying nod.

'I will find my way back to you,' she spoke firmly with a determined look. She had to. She desperately needed to go back to him and travel seventy years ahead in time to keep her word. 'I promise.'

She nodded to him – to herself – then reluctantly slipped her hand out of his. It would techically tke her seventy years for them to meet again, but thankfully it was bound to happen sooner than what it sounded like.

She took a step back, unable to break eye contact with him, and eventually slowly spun on her heels to walk out the opposite way. The anguish of having altered the timeline anyway or of never reactivating the time travel device took hold of her. Chances were that it might be the last time she'd ever see him. It frightened her beyond measure; not to die, not to spend her life stuck in the wrong time, but, fundamentally, to never see him again. Thor and Tony's warnings resonated in her head like they always did every time she thought about steppig over the line, reminding her that she couldn't alter the timeline, but she had altered already when she confessed her feelings to him.

She froze on the sidewalk and closed her eyes. If this was their last goodbye, it couldn't end like this.

'Screw it,' she murmured to herself and spun back towards Steve. She leaped forwards and crushed her lips against his mouth. His lips kissed her back with the same ardor. The kiss was desperate, needy, demanding, but mostly tender and adoring.

She wrapped her arms around his neck while his hands went on to cup her face. She had forgotten what his lips tasted like since that time on the escalator and they seemed to taste better than what she remembered, jus like his natural scent intoxicated her all the way up to her brain. She was eager for more as she felt his full, plumb lips moving against hers.

It felt like an eternity, as in time froze, but then seemed to have lasted only instant as soon as her lips pulled away. Her face remained a few inches apart from his, her warm breath brushing on his skin. Steve was just as breathless as she was and carried all the innocence and the bliss of a first true kiss. He closed his eyelids and relished the moment.

Of the whole intense past two months she had spent here, this was her fullest minute of felicity, her one and only instant of stillness.

She breathed in his scent one last time then stepped away, feeling more serene and less tortured than when she was about to go one minute earlier. Steve's expression was just as similar.

She smiled, squeezed his hand then left.

She promised herself this wouldn't be their last goodbye.

Two days later, in the evening, Natasha left her NYC apartment for good. She returned the key to the concierge and was headed for the airport. Three hours later, she was on a plane to Switzerland. Upon arrival, she took a cab that drove her to the outskirts of Geneva. She stopped at a discreet inn, a little tavern where her presence would go unnoticed to spend the night there.

She woke up at dawn the next morning, not that she had slept much anyway since she had spent most of the night going over her schedule over and over again.

She wore her dark blue jumpsuit and the black heels she had found nearly two weeks before in New York. She tied her hair up in a tight and elegant bun that made her look both refined and self-disciplined, a detail that would sustain her false identity. Her make-up was polished but simple, a perfect balance to be granted any whim by the man she would catch the eye of and to blend in the crowd without being noticed nor remembered.

She put on a ridiculously expensive black coat with a grey fur collar with a fur hat of the same color and fabric. She had studied German women's fashion style seriously enough to know this outfit would automatically grant her a high status; and who said high said undisputable.

The cab she called for drove her to a little frequented train station, which, according to her sources, was mostly used for special lines and military convoy trains. At 8.14 AM, the Schnellzug EB912, Hydra's advanced train transporting Arnim Zola, would make a stop there to carry some special civilian 'guests' to a town in the south of Germany before being headed for HYDRA's headquarters. That wet without saying that her journey would be longer than the other passengers'. She still needed a ticket, though. A pass, to be more precise, that had been sold with much caution, and to some privileged Germans only.

She stood by the newspaper stand, pretending to be reading a paper while her eyes actually studied any person stepping out of a taxi or a car with chauffeur and going in the station.

A man wearing a stern, blond moustache and an expensive grey suit caught her eye. She put the newspaper down and walked straight to him at a fast pace. She bumped hardly into him, making him gasp in surprise. She let a little cry out too when they collided while her hand swiftly inside his blazer and pulled the train ticket out of his inside pocket. She hid it in the large sleeve of her coat in a perfectly choregraphed motion.

' _Alle meine Entschuldigungen. Ich bin so ungeschickt!_ ' she exclaimed in a flawless accent.

The man groaned and she gently rearranged the collar of his coat, intentionally letting her hands dwell on his chest. She smiled suavely.

' _Habe ich Ihnen weh getan?_ ' she asked with false concern.

The man's temper dropped immediately when he took a proper look at theh ravishing creature standing in front of him, glanced down at her hands on him, and realized she started being flirtatious.

He shook his head and even made a smile. Obviously, he would fall for it; all the men fell for it. All the men except Steve, not even after she had kissed him on the escalator. He was the only man who had ever resisted her charms and who hadn't fallen until she had fallen first.

' _Gar nicht!_ ' he answered with a far too enthusiastic tone for someone who had just been run into.

Now that she had what she wanted, she had to make sure she wouldn't cross his mind as a possible suspect once he would realize the ticket was gone. The whole point was that he would have to conclude he had barely lost the ticket and not have the authorities go after her.

Sticking around made her totally innocent as a thief taking the time to flirt with their victim was something totally absurd and unheard of.

' _Darf ich entschuldige mich für mein Verhalten mit einem Kaffee?_ ' she asked with the most believable seductive look.

The chances that he would blame the unfortunate disappearance of his train ticket on the elegant, wealthy lady who had been ready to spend half an hour in his company were low.

Sadly for him, it was 8:08 and she knew for a fact he would have to decline her invitation and carry his regret with him for the rest of the day.

' _Ich fürchte, ich habe einen Zug erwischen,_ ' he said apologetically with a visible pout on the face.

' _Wie schade_ ,' she answered with a polite smile and a perfectly measured disappointed look. She let her hands slide off his coat.

The man cleared his throat and put his hand in the pocket of his face. He took a card out and handed it to her with a smirk.

' _Hier ist meine persönliche Nummer ist vertraulich_ ,' he spoke confidently. ' _Ich würde in München Sindh freuen uns darauf, von Ihnen zu hören, im Idealfall._ '

' _Klare Sache_ ,' she said with a smile and took the card.

The man smiled and walked away reluctantly. She watched him step inside the train station and hastily make a stop at the bathroom before the train's departure.

Her grin disappeared as soon as he was out of sight and she went straight across the station to the platform. She went by the trashcan that was on her way, lifted her hand up and dropped the card she had just been given in it with an emotionless face. Men…

She finally slipped the ticket out of her sleeve and took a look at it and she walked towards the last carriages at the tail of the train which were reserved to the civilians and staff and would certainly be detached once in Germany before the train heads off to the headquarters. She swiftly walked past all the steely cars, knowing Arnim Zola and a bunch of Hydra soldiers and weapons were in them. The people around her all seemed completely oblivious of the moving weapon the train they were getting onto was.

It was a matter of hours before Steve, Barnes and private Gabriel 'Gabe' Jones get on it, too. Literally on top of it.

She smiled to the conductor standing by the door on the platform and who was checking the passengers' tickets.

' _Guten Morgen, Fraulein,_ ' he spoke politely.

She smiled and handed in the ticket. He took it and his eyes went over it mechanically. She discreetly took a glance behind her. The man she had stolen the ticket from hadn't arrived yet.

' _Waren Sie in der Schweiz für die Freizeit?_ ' he asked.

' _Ich kam, um einen alten Freund zu besuchen,_ ' she answered with composure and confidence and a noticeable hint of coldness which was meant to be bound to their culture and her social status.

With her outfit, her perfect accent, her natural Aryan features and her collected demeanor, she looked more German than him.

' _Kann ich Sie bitten, mir Ihre Handtasche bitte zu zeigen?_ , he asked, following the procedure.

She opened her purse and showed it to him just as he asked. He quickly threw a glance inside. No tools, no gadgets, nothing compromising. Just a mirror, a coinpurse, a lipstick and an innocent Swiss army knife that might just as well be a souvenir from her stay that she was now bringing home with her.

The conductor put a stamp on the ticket and gave it back to her.

' _Genießen Sie Ihre Reise,_ ' he said. She gave him a silent nod and got on the train.

She stepped inside the car and walked down the aisle. The carriage was fairly luxurious with brown leather seats and red velvet curtains hanging at every window. The passengers were all dressed as superbly as her and oozed wealthiness.

She went to the the nearest available seat near the door leading to the next carriage. She removed her hat and her coat and sat by the window.

She felt the engine start. A familiar-looking man running past her window caught her attention. He presented himself to the conductor and reached for the inside pocket of his blazer. A look of consternation and panic spread across his face. She leaned herself against the back of her seat and slightly pulled the curtain to hide her face behind.

Her suitor from five minutes ago went on to pat every part of his body frantically. He spoke with ardor while pointing to the train whereas the conductor held his arm up to block the access to the train. She read on his lips he was telling the employee to let him on the train as he was a passenger.

'I don't know where it is!' he answered vehemently in German to what was certainly the conductor's question. 'I must have left it in the car or on my way to the station! I remember putting it in my pocket!"

The conductor shook his head and politely waved for him to leave the platform. The man exhaled forcefully and flapped his leather briefcase against his leg.

The train shifted slightly then progressively moved along as it gained power from the engine. The man stared in disarray, seeming to think of an alternative way to get home.

The first part of her mission was a success. She smirked and closed the curtain completely.

Hours went by as she watched the different white landscapes of Switzerland pass before her window. Staff came to serve lunch to each passenger like they were royalty. Natasha barely ate. Just a few nibbles here and there so she would't have a heavy stomach but still enough to sustain herself for the physical performance her body would have to achieve soon.

The train crossed the German border and was only forty minutes away from where the civilian line would officially terminate.

After coffee, the staff disappeared to their carriage when the train slowed down to enter the station, indicating it was now her cue. She calmly rose to her feet, put her coat and hat over her arm and walked down the opposite way to the bathroom she had checked three hours before when she was weighing her options.

She didn't lock the door behind her and therefore hastened to slide the upper part of the window down. It was a narrow space but nothing her supple body wouldn't do. She climbed onto the toilet and slipped herself out of the carriage through the window. She was immediately slapped in the face by the cold wind. She could feel it was the cold coming from the Alps.

Now hanging on the outside face of the train, she quickly leaned down back inside the window to catch her coat and hat and flung them onto the roof of the train before proceeding to slide the window back up to close it. As soon as she finished, she hauled herself onto the roof. She looked behind her: the train station was less than two miles away.

She picked up the expensive fur coat and hat and threw them as far away from the tracks as possible. They landed off the railroads behind a bush. Everything had to look like she gotten off the train right after coming out of the bathroom as witnesses had seen her go in.

She ran along the roof and jumped up to the next carriage, swiflty, quietly, like a cat falling onto its paws. She was now on the compartment that was transporting the staff and the service equipment. She kept moving and jumped onto the next one which, she knew because of the plans she had memorized in the Avengers tower the morning before time traveling, was part of the HYDRA convoy. As it only contained food supplies and other basic materials, she knew there wouldn't be any security camera. Only a guard or two, at most. And a door with quite a regular lock.

She slipped herself down between the two carriages, opened her purse, pulled the Swiss knife out and tossed the purse away into a bush.

She cautiously knelt down in front of the steely door and lifted her hand up to her head. She pulled a long and solid metallic stick out of her hair, the lock pick she never would be allowed on the train with but that was just as similar –and practical- as a hairpin. She inserted it into the lock and used one tool of her Swiss army knife to help torque the cylinder. She worked with calm and meticulousness. It certainly wasn't the first lock she had to pick! She excelled at it.

She felt the cylinder turn until a hardly audible click alerted her it was unlocked. She slipped the hairpin back into her bun and slowly stood back up. She took a glimpse inside the carriage through the little window. A guard had just stepped out of his spot and had his back on the door. She now had to create the effect of surprise on the two soldiers.

She swung the door open and jumped in. The train was now entering the station. Her eyes swept across the carriage and analyzed the configuration in an instant. OK, well that would actually be three soldiers. She ran to the guard who hadn't had the time to flip around yet and leaped onto him. Her thighs wrapped themselves around his neck and squeezed his throat prisonner as she planted the little sharp blade of her Swiss Army knife right into the heart of the second guard who was comig at her; a ridiculously small blade but which, in her hands of assassin punctured his ventricular septum and killed him instantly. She felt the first soldier suffocate under her as she swiftly reached for the gun hanging at his belt and shot down the third soldier who had just hold his rifle up at her. As soon as he fell to the ground, she jerked her hips hardly and snapped the first guard's neck. He collapsed on the floor and she let herself fall down with him before landing on her feet. She was the only person left standing in the carriage, her three opponents dead. The train was now still.

She searched the guards until she found the badge that would open all the doors to the next compartments.

All she had to do now was wait until the last two carriages would be detached and the train depart again. She sat on a crate but kept her guard up.

Less than ten minutes later, the Schnellzug EB912 was on the move. Her plan to let the staff assume she had gotten off like the rest of the passengers had worked. She looked at her watch. It would take three more hours for the train to drive along the Alps and reach the headquarters, not that she cared much since History said it never would make it there anyway. The crucial piece of information here was that in one hour and forty-seven minutes, Steve, Barnes and Jones would be on top of the train; and that in one hour and fifty-eight minutes, Barnes would be falling off of it.

As the time on her clock approached, Natasha found herself getting more and more nervous. An usual feeling, in fact, but that was entirely based on the fear of the outcome and the consequences it would have on people she cared about. The obligation to remain hidden and work in the shadows added an extra thrill and made her heart race.

She soothed it down by the moment her watch struck the time for her to get in action. In twelve minutes, Steve and Barnes would arrive, in eleven, Steve would lose his best friend. That gave her approximately the same amount of time to move to the head of the train. It had to be a last minute attack to maintain the level of security as low as low as possible and as similar as the one Steve should normally find. Her mission couldn't disrupt his mission to put it simply.

She unlocked the first door and dove in the freight car, shooting the camera in the process, then rolled forwards on her back and shot the soldiers present. When silence fell, she flung herself upwards to rise to her feet.

She heard a muffled sound resonate on the steel above her. She glanced up. Steve was here.

She dropped her empty gun and took another gun and a knife from one of the dead soldiers then used the pass to access the next compartment. The door remained locked. She looked at her watch. Time was ticking. She would have to get to the other car from the outside.

She used the side door and climbed the latter on the outside of the train. The roof was empty meaning that Steve and his men were already in the carriage. The train was moving at a way higher speed than when she climbed on it before. Her balance wasn't as steady and the ruthless cold felt like knife stabs all over her body. She bent slightly over to even out her weight and make it easier for her to move then ran along the carriage to get to the other end.

She climbed down the latter and opened the side door.

By the next carriage, the alarm had gone off indicating Steve and the Howling Commando's presence was known. She found the soldiers in the freight car on their guards and ready to pull the trigger. She thrust the knife at the soldier who was the farthest from her and killed him instantly, she then used one as a human shield to avoid bullets and fell to the ground to shoot the ankle of her shooter. He wailed in pain and barely had time to look up that Natasha had already come to him and snapped his neck.

She looked at the watch. Four minutes left. She moved stealthily towards the door and glanced through the window. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Steve and Barnes standing side by side, turned in the opposite direction. She exhaled silently and waited for the perfect moment.

She watched as Steve stepped inside the car farther up while Barnes took a look at the equipment stocked in black rectangle cases.

She pressed the button to open her door knowing it would draw his attention. And it did. Barnes cautiously made his way towards her compartment, his rifle's hand pressed against his shoulder. Just as she knew it would happen, the door leading to the carriage where Steve was closed suddenly.

Barnes' attention flickered as he flipped his head instinctively to look behind him and check his best friend was safe. This was when she attacked. She barged in the carriage and hit the back of his neck with her elbow, a specific spot which would make him have a nap for the next ten minutes. He groaned and fell to the floor, unconscious.

'Sweet dreams, James,' she breathed out quietly and stepped over him.

Now it was all about being swift and efficient. She aimed her gun at the door that kept Steve away and shot the little window, making the glass crack into small pieces, and therefore block Steve's view. Steve came running back to the door, this was when she took her second shot to destroy the electric system and keep him from coming in. She then shot the surveillance camera fixed at the corner above the shelf behind which she was hiding.

Steve banged frantically on the door.

'Bucky! Bukcy!' he shouted from the other side while she stepped in the middle of the compartment knowing nobody could see her now. It was also a matter of minutes before Steve would find a way to open the door and get to his best friend, but he would soon be busy when an enemy would come to him from the other carriage ahead of him. That was what the report said, the soldier who was responsible for James' death was seconds away from stepping in. She didn't particularly enjoy the idea of Steve dealing with him alone, locked in the compartment with him because of her, but she knew he could take it.

Steve was still banging at the door, desperately trying to catch a glimpse in the compartment where she was with James, and his frustration not to see anything through the cracks was showing.

'Bucky! Bucky, answer me!' he yelled.

She glanced to the right. Barnes was having a peaceful slumber and wouldn't keep any bruise or other marks, just maybe a little headache, she couldn't tell for sure though.

Steps coming from the compartment she had originally arrived from made her furrow her brows. She leaned in to take a look and saw a Robocop look-alike approach. Robocop was certainly anachronic here, but judging by the iron armor he was wearing, the comparison fitted perfectly. It also hit her that it _was_ the soldier who was said to cause James' death and who was now supposed to be in the other compartment with Steve. She took a deep breath. She assumed her presence on the train had altered the storyline as Zola had apparently decided to send his best weapon at the unknown intruder (since all the cameras had been destroyed) who was coming from the tail of the train rather than keep it at the head near him.

It meant _she_ would have to deal with it. It comforted her to know Steve would remain safe and sound all alone in his compartment.

She bounced at him like a black panther to make him lose his balance. He deflected her attack by hitting her in the face. She fell to the ground and got back on her feet right away.

' _Du hast keine Idee davon, was auf dich wartet, frau,_ ' he spat.

'Z _eig mir, was du drauf hast,_ ' she answered hardly with a bold and clearly unafraid look.

He came at her with a determined look and she did the same running straight at him. She then leaped onto the crate on the right to gain momentum then she jumped higher, clinging herself to him, her legs wrapping themselves around his neck while she strongly held his chin up, bending his head backwards against her abdomen. He groaned in rage, flipping right and left to make her fall but her legs had a strong grip around his upper body.

'Bucky!' Steve shouted louder from behind the door, alerted by the sudden clatter coming from the freight car, now banging the door with his shoulder. 'Bucky, let me in!'

Natasha was still on the soldier's shoulders, trying to get a firm grip of his neck to snap it. The soldier saw it coming and lifted his arms, reaching up for her. He grabbed each side of her waist and violently flung her out of his shoulders onto the ground. She fell hardly on the floor and he immediately came at her again, picking her up and running to the wall, tackling her against the steel. A rush of acute pain struck her like lightning and spread along her backbone, making her gasp in pain.

She tried to clasp his waist with her legs but he spun around and threw on the ground again. Her muscles were radiating pain like they were in fire, her heart pounding, her breathing jerky, tasting blood in her mouth.

'Who's there?!' Steve shouted from behind the door, seeming to catch a glimpse of two silhouettes he couldn't identify through the broken glass.

The soldier remained focus on her and aimed his weapon at her. A shot she knew would kill her instantly.

He pressed the trigger and she jumped out of the way, the blue laser blowing a hole into the side of the train, the freezing wind coming in the carriage while the train was now driving over the cliff James was supposed to fall into. Her first instinct was to glance behind her and found he was still knocked out.

The sound of screeching metal coming from the other compartment warned her that Steve had found a way to break down the door and that it was pretty effective.

The soldier grabbed her throat tightly and held her up in the air. She flapped her legs and tried to release herself from his strong and painful grip, panting. She put her had behind her hair and slipped the hairpin. She held firmly in her first and stabbed him in the eye with it.

The man screamed in a mix of agony and rage and let go of her. Steve went quiet on the other side of the door, startled and distressed not to know if he had just heard his best friend's cry of pain.

She took advantage of her opponent losing focus and bounced at him, legs forward and as flat and strong as board and kicked him on the chest. His heavy armor made him lose his balance and he fell backwards in a clatter. Her attack had to be immediate as it would take him precious seconds to get back on his feet. She rolled on her stomach and tried to reach for the gun which had slipped under the shelf.

She felt a grip around her ankle and was violently pulled backwards towards him. She rolled on her back again and hit him repeatedly in the face with her heel. He screamed in pain when she touched his bleeding eye and aimed his gun at her again. She rolled away and the laser blew off the shelf, making all the cases and boxes fall loudly on the ground.

The soldier used them to help himself rise to his feet. When he finally looked up, a noise resonated and he stared in shock, a brief and squealing gasp slipping out of his mouth, as the bullet shot from her gun hit him right above the heart and pierced through his tissues.

He staggered but still gathered the strength to raise his arm to shoot at her. She charged in his direction, put all her balance on her left foot and swung her other leg in the air. Her foot struck him right in the chest, throwing him out of the train. She stood by the edge and exhaled deeply as she watched him fall down the cliff the way his victim, James, was supposed to.

A loud bang coming from the other carriage caught her attention. She turned, alert, and saw the metal door was on the verge to give way.

'Bucky!' Steve's repeated screams were distressed and desperate.

It was time to vanish.

She took a few steps back, glanced right and left then she raced towards the hole her opponent had just fallen from. Close to reach the edge, she hopped, her hands clinging to the metal bar hanging above, and swung herself skywards, did a back flip and finally landed on the roof of the train.

She heard the door burst open and Steve barge in.

'Bucky!' he exclaimed in horror, as she heard rushed steps towards the other end of the carriage. 'Bucky, are you alright?' he asked with a mix of concern and relief.

Out of her sore muscles, her aching bruises and the blood she could feel running down her temple, a smile rose to her lips as she let herself be filled with joy and relief beyond measure. Not only for saving James today but for the way it would influence the whole future. She also felt privileged to witness (sort of) the two best friends' reunion after such a tense moment.

'Y-yeah,' James mumbled, a bit stunned.

'What happened?' Steve asked.

'Somebody…knocked me out. I think,' he answered.

A silence followed. 'Who were you fighting?' Steve asked, sounding quite confused.

She didn't have time to listen to more. Time was against her. She ran out, jumping from one carriage to another, towards the tail. As soon as the train was out of the bridge, she jumped off , rolled onto the ground, the powdery snow cushioning her fall – although she wasn't worried to add one more bruise to the list of her physical injuries for the day. She then headed west for a one-hour-and-forty-minute-long walk that would take her to the nearest tavern according to the maps she had studied during her stay in New York.

Now that her mission had been accomplished, it was time to go _home_.


	12. Epilogue

_Author's note_ _: And here's the epilogue (which isn't one, it's a long ass chapter many would agree on). Thank you for your amazing comments. You're awesome._

Natasha was back in New York City less than twenty-four hours after her extraction. A taxi took her straight from the airport to De Witt Clinton Park on the Eleventh Avenue. She made her way towards one of the many trees and put her hand into the narrow hole of the oak tree that was the farthest to the left. She patted until she felt the object she was looking for. She picked a little silver key between her fingers and pulled it out.

She then went to Grand central and used the key to open the locker she had rented less than three days before. Inside was Thor's chip, the device that would make her travel through time again, and that she never would have allowed in the hands of Nazis if she had perished or been captured during her mission.

She held the chip in her palm and smiled at the prospect of going back where she belonged.

She made her way to Central Park, down the same isolated trail and sat on the same bench she had traveled on the first time. The feeling of a joyful déjà vu took over her as she yet realized how different this one was. The first time she sat on this bench, she was full of grief, anguish and uncertainties while now she was sitting again filled with relief, pride and in peace with feelings she had accepted to embrace. Uncertainties were still there as she kept wondering whether she would find Steve in the future she had created, and hoped fate would take it from there.

She pressed the chip onto her temple which 'magically' fixed itself to her skin like it had the first time around. According to Thor, Stark and Banner, her consciousness would combine with her other future self to make one unique person, meaning she should in theory keep memories from her two selves: Natasha who had traveled to the past and Natasha who wasn't born yet in this current timeline but would be in about forty years' time.

She took a long breath in and thought of the future. She visualized the day on the calendar that the one she had time traveled to 1942. She opened her eyes, the landscape around her was brighter and enhanced, indicating the device was on. She raised her hands up and pushed the whole setting on the left to move forwards into the future.

Meanwhile, in South Germany, numerous questions were raised. And none that Steve could answer. After Zola's capture, Steve asked to have all the security footage taken in order to identify the mysterious third party.

'Do you think he's with the enemy?' Bucky asked while Steve was standing on the edge of the train, inspecting the big hole that had been blown on the wall and from which the intruder had escaped after killing the German soldier.

'What I know is whoever he works for he wasn't after either of us,' he answered, folding his arms across his chest.

The intruder's work had been impeccable as there was no security footage to exploit and therefore proved he had made sure to destroy all the cameras before stepping in their sights.

'So, he's just a ghost?' Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. He pouted with a reluctant look. 'Call me sentimental but I kinda wanted to put a face on the person who knocked me out.'

'It's like he knew exactly how many cameras and where they would be,' Peggy spoke.

'I thought the plans of this train were confidential,' Steve said.

'They are,' Colonel Philips said, openly showing how irritating he found the whole thing. 'This guy clearly had access to information our own services couldn't dream of having.' Yes, this whole thing really was irritating. 'I don't like it,' the colonel eventually stated out loud to the surprise of no one.

Steve turned his head as an object reflecting sunrays and slightly shining on the floor caught his attention. He crouched down and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to pick it up. He lifted it up to the level of his face and eyed it closely.

'You found something?' Bucky asked.

'I might have,' he said and stood up to show them what he had found.

Peggy, Bucky and the colonel frowned in confusion.

'A hairpin?' Bucky asked looking at the long pin stained with blood.

Steve was more impressed with the intruder than he was ten seconds ago, and so was Peggy – who would have had a smug smirk if she knew the female agent's intentions weren't hostile.

'I think our guy is a she,' he said.

Weeks then months went by and the train female agent mystery remained unresolved in the files.

Weeks and months went by and Steve kept his promise.

He forgot about Natalie. Or let's say, he never mentioned her name again. Bucky followed the tacit deal that was never officially voiced out loud and never brought her up again either. As the days and the weeks passed by, one day arrived when she stopped haunting his thoughts, not unless he willingly thought of her. It somewhat comforted him to think he had moved on as he realized that Nat would probably never come back.

Peggy became his biggest support and his listening ear again as he came to conclude she was the choice of reason; the kind that would last. He treasured every moment he spent with her and still felt that flutter in his stomach every time she walked into a room. It nearly felt like old time, except that it was all different now. The flutter was accompanied by a feeling of guilt and uneasiness he couldn't shake off.

On March 4th 1945, Steve shared his first kiss with Peggy. And the same day, they shared their final goodbye.

The kiss was very much tender and definitely agreeable, and yet lacked the consuming passion he had once felt and couldn't forget the taste of.

The final goodbye was gut-wrenching and cruel, and yet again a feeling he wasn't unfamiliar with. He had had painful goodbye before, the kind that had had his heart broken.

Steve put his compass on the command board and looked at the photo of her he kept in it.

Death was a strange thing. It brought every feeling you didn't suspect and memories you thought you had gotten over to the surface. It was in his last minutes that Steve yearned to see the face of the woman who had walked into his life and turned it upside down in the most pleasant way possible before walking out of it just as quickly. He opened the zip of his thigh pocket and reached for the paper folded in four that was in it.

His fingers delicately unfolded it as he held back his breath. In the turmoil of the alarms squealing endlessly, the engine roaring and the inevitability of his upcoming death, his ears shut everything down as he looked at the portrait he had drawn of Natalie.

He smiled to himself, stroked the spot where he had drawn a lock of her hair – he had always longed to brush that curly lock of hair that constantly fell on her temple and grazed her eyelashes – then down to her face. He relished the memory of their kiss that was playing in his head again. His whole being hoped she would never find her way back to him like she promised. Not so long ago, he feared she wouldn't keep her word, and here he was afraid she would actually return to find he had perished on a mission.

He put the paper on the control board, right next to Peggy's picture and looked at the two women who had put their entire faith in him, who had taught him love in the two different shapes it could take and who had made him feel like a man.

He carried with him the regret of waiting too long and not disclosing his deepest feelings to either of them when he still could as he steered the quinjet down towards the ice of Greenland.

That day, he lost them both.

After he woke up sixty-four years later, when he was given back his compass only and asked for the missing drawing, he was told not such thing had been found and that it was most likely the paper had dissolved in the water. These words stabbed him in the heart.

That day, he lost Natalie forever.

The landscape in front of her eventually stood still and the chip fell off her temple like it did the first time. Natasha looked around her. It was too early to tell if it had worked.

The frightening part was that, unlike what her teammates had told her, she didn't have any other memories than the one she already possessed. Her brain, no matter how hard she tried to recall, seemed to carry no memory of her second self's life whatsoever.

'Damn it,' she whispered to herself, panic slowly creeping its way up.

A detail suddenly caught her attention. The lock of hair that always had the knack to fall right beside her eye glowed with a coppery nuance under the sunlight. She held it in her hand and looked at it. She had her red hair back.

She got up the bench and made her way out of Central Park. As she passed the exit, relief took over her as she saw the familiar urban settings of her time again. She looked up at an electronic display and read the date. She was back on the date she wanted: the day she had traveled to the past, two weeks after Steve's death.

But she still couldn't recall any memory from this new timeline. She ran up the streets, all the way to Manhattan. She halted and smiled in relief when she found the imposing Avengers Towers standing in front of her. Who knew she would ever be so thrilled to see Tony Stark's delusion of grandeur architecture.

She ran to the building and the security guards all stared at her curiously when she stepped into the hall. She eyed them carefully, suspiciously. The question was: was she an Avenger in this future? She squeezed her hands into fists in the eventuality the answer was no and she would therefore need to resort to force to reach the floor where her friends were.

'Is everything alright, agent Romanoff?' one of them finally asked.

Now, she was. She nodded and the guards opened the security gates for her.

She stepped in the elevator and anguish took hold of her all the way up to the top floors. She had so many questions, nearly all of which involved Steve, that she dreaded wouldn't be the ones she wanted to hear.

The doors of the elevator opened and she sheepishly stepped out of it into the main reception hall. Everything looked the same so far. The furniture, the details, it seemed like the future had gone the same way as the original one.

Steps broke the silence and she spun her head towards the door in the back. A blissful warmth wrapped her entirely when she recognized the person coming in.

She ran up to him. 'Clint,' she murmured in relief. Her best friend lowered the file he was holding and looked at her in surprise. She held him tight in her arms before he could say a word.

She closed her eyes and drew comfort in the moment, the unspeakable happiness of having kept her word and come back to him like he had made her promise.

Clint first froze, briefly, and then wrapped his arms around her too.

'Tasha, are you OK?' he asked.

She pulled back and looked at him. 'I am, now,' she said softly. His frown and his relaxed features indicated her he had no memories of the other timeline, just as expected. And it made sense, although, she couldn't help but wish he could have appreciated their reunion the same way she was.

She smiled to him and stepped back, although she kept one hand on his arm.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

'Where is he?' she asked with an anguish she couldn't conceal. 'Where is Steve?'

Clint saw her distress immediately, heard it in her voice. It seemed he knew her here just as well here as he knew her in the other reality. 'What's wrong?' he asked, furrowing his brows.

Her heart pounded harder. 'Clint, I don't have time for this. Just tell me if Steve is here.'

She could feel all the effort, all the sacrifices, all the struggles and pain of the past two months, all the joy and the relief of her successful mission threatening to crumble into dust.

'Barton. I asked for this file two hours ago. What's taking so long?' somebody said.

She gasped in silence as the voice coming from behind her turned all this crumbling dust into a solid edifice. She turned and she felt her eyes fill with water as she saw Steve, in the flesh, standing right in front of her.

'Steve?' she whispered softly, not totally believing that this sight was true.

He stood ten feet across from her, wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up under his elbows.

Somehow, she knew she couldn't let herself run into his arms like she did with Clint. It was so different. With Clint, she didn't wait for anything in return, she didn't have any expectations; there was no disappointment possible. With Steve, it could all go perfectly well, or all go wrong.

He looked in her direction and smiled fondly at her. His smile. There was something in his smile she couldn't quite grasp. It definitely wasn't romantic – he didn't smile at her like he did in 1942 every time she walked in, but it wasn't solely friendly either. _Fondly_ was the only word that fitted.

Evidently, Steve had never figured out she was Natalie. And really, how could he? Even if he had looked over the different hair colour, there was no way his brain could have come to the conclusion that it was the same person who, either didn't age, or time traveled. It went beyond reason. Even for a man who had slept for sixty-five years in the ice and hadn't aged a day.

'Steve,' she repeated, this time to herself. It was like a liberating chanting that healed the wound of his death and their goodbyes.

Steve frowned and glanced over at Clint.

'Don't look at me. She's acting like she's seeing us all for the first time, apparently,' Clint said with a shrug.

Her gaze was fixed on Steve and he soon noticed it. It made him comfortable and she soon noticed. She glanced away, saddened and uneasy.

'Because I am,' she retorted to Clint, preferring to turn her attention back on her best friend. 'Sort of.'

Clint raised an eyebrow.

'I need to talk to you guys about something. Is…,' she trailed off in apprehension the name she was going to drop would shock them, '…Thor here?'

Clint and Steve looked at each other wondering if they should start worrying about her.

'Of course, he is,' Clint said dully. 'Duh' was the word obviously missing at the end of his sentence and you could feel it.

She sighed in relief.

'Emergency meeting now, then. Everybody needs to hear what I'm about to say,' she said with a determined look. She stood, determined and prepared. 'I made a promise to Stark.'

Steve frowned. 'Can it wait until…?'

The dramatic look on her face made him stop midway. 'I guess it can't,' he corrected himself.

Her teammates –her original teammates – all gathered in the living room around her, sitting on the big sofas around the coffee table.

'It better be important, Romanoff,' Tony said casually as he fell on the couch. 'Bruce and I were working on a revolutionary concept.'

'I'll give you revolutionary,' she assured with a smirk.

She started the story, which Tony mocked immediately with one of his sarcastic remarks. So she took the chip out of her pocket, making Thor freeze when he recognized it and asked if the Asgardian legend was true.

'Oh, it is very true,' she confirmed.

They all listened, first dubious, questioning, then more and more riveted by her story; what started it all, Steve's death, the Winter Soldier, their decision to travel to the past.

Steve listened in silence, not because of negative feelings but because he couldn't think of any word to say. She looked at him for almost the entire time, trying to depict the sea of feelings that was passing by in his eyes. His look widened as he opened new eyes on his old memories – both their memories.

She smiled tenderly at him when she paused after concluding her story. His expression was now too difficult o read. He seemed to understand better and yet looked more clueless than before.

'I have nothing to prove what I'm saying. Nothing but Thor's device and my story,' she finished.

The Avengers were numb. As soon as she was done, they all turned to Steve, who felt the pressure of their gazes on him.

Steve swallowed hard, trying to figure out the words he was supposed but unable to find any that would be telling enough. So many words in the English language and yet he couldn't think of one that would fit the situation.

Her teammates had their own questions, though.

'So fundamentally, I was right. Right?' Thor spoke first, seeming to clarify an unresolved situation and eager to get the credits he felt all the others owed him although he had no memory whatsoever of it.

'You're saying we actually had a time travel device in our possession,' Stark chimed in, 'an invention that fundamentally haunts the dreams and the fantasies of every scientist, and we used it to save Cap's ass?' He furrowed his eyebrows in disarray, making Bruce, seated next to him, roll his eyes.

Tony pouted to express how unimpressed he was about all this. Steve shot him a look out of the corner of his eyes for only response. It appeared Tony and Steve's bickering was to be a thing in this reality and every other reality and parallel universe.

'I let you go?' Clint commented, arching an eyebrow at her, surprised by the decision of his other reality self. She smiled at him as a silen yes. Clint was incredulous. 'I don't like this guy. Glad to know this new timeline made me less stupid,' he said as a statement.

'You were the first to approve the idea and go for it,' Natasha said, turning to Stark. A devious smirk rose to her lips. 'You even warned me not to mess it up.'

Steve looked at him again with a triumphant expression. Tony stared with big eyes then shook his head.' Totally. out. of. character,' he retorted nonchalantly with a lie that lacked his usual…panache.

'Come on Stark, we all know and have accepted that you have the hots for Steve. When are you finally going to admit it to yourself?' someone called out from the other side of the room.

Natasha turned and froze at the sight of the person standing by the door. Froze even harder than when it was Steve. James Buchanan Barnes was standing in the middle of the room, looking very much alive and young, looking just like the way she had last seen him except he was dressed in casual modern clothes (and seemed to have picked on modern fashion more easily than Steve ) and had his hair brushed in a fairly messy hairstyle, barely longer than what he had in 1942.

James seemed totally oblivious of her presence, or more like, didn't perceive it as something unusual.

'I can break the news to Pepper if you like,' he continued, walking past her towards the empty space on the couch – which she now realized always belonged to him – with the smug expression he always had every time he was being snarky.

This new reality suddenly appeared completely blurry. She now was the one who had many questions.

'Bucky?' she murmured feebly. 'How are you here?'

He looked at her like she had just spoken nonsense. He stood in the middle and looked around the table noticing the stern and confused expressions on everyone's face, starting with Steve.

'Why does it look like I missed a major twist?' he asked, watching them all.

'Because you missed a major twist,' Clint answered coolly.

Bucky assessed the conversation as somewhat important although he didn't perceive any gravity either.

He shrugged and fell on the couch, folding one leg up on his other knee. 'I guess Pepper can wait twenty more minutes,' he stated and paid close attention.

She told her story again, then Bucky told his.

 _Bucky was shot in the leg during an attack against Hydra a few days before the quinjet had been found, and when the opportunity came to take down Red Skull, Steve was the obvious choice for the mission. Bucky obviously volunteered to join. In spite of his protests, Steve categorically refused to risk his best friend's life and made him swear (on his mother) to stay in the hospital until full recovery._

 _The attack on Red Skull went exactly the same than it did the first time in Natasha's original reality and when Steve finally accepted his upcoming death, he asked Peggy to say farewell to Bucky for him._

 _He put both Peggy and Natalie's pictures on his control board and aimed down towards the ground when a noise coming from the door behind him startled him._

 _'Ugh. Are we seriously nosediving? Steve, you're so dramatic,' Bucky said, leaning onto the door, trying to keep his balance on his good leg._

 _'What are you doing, here!?' Steve shouted. 'I told you to stay in the camp!'_

 _'Like hell!' Bucky yelled back. 'And you said you wouldn't be reckless! And now you're diving straight into the ocean, you punk.'_

 _Followed a heated argument that led to the undisputable conclusion that there was nothing Steve could possibly do to change the course of events without jeopardizing the civilians' life on the ground._

 _Bucky sat in the co-pilot chair and looked at Steve._

 _'We're doing this together, Steve, or we're not doing it at all,' he said, with a determined look. 'Till the end of the line, remember?'_

 _Steve felt tears come up to his eyes, mirroring Bucky's watery gaze. As much as it hurt him to know his best friend would perish too, he also knew he wouldn't hesitate once again to do the same if the tables were turned. Didn't mean that didn't make him angry._

 _'You swore on your mother,' Steve groaned with a lump in his throat._

 _'Mother, God rest her soul, was a beautiful person but also a hopeless liar,' Bucky commented nonchalantly. 'Hopefully, she'll forgive me from taking from her side.'_

 _They went down together that evening, with a light heart, not carrying once ounce of regret, drawing pride in saving countless of New Yorkers and sticking together until the end of the line._

And they did sick together. More than both could have ever imagined. Steve woke up in 2011, and so did Bucky, to everyone's surprise. The tests later revealed that Zola's experiments on him back in 1942 had affected his metabolism in a way that had been copied from Steve's serum and therefore preserved him in the ice. Both had then been recruited by Nick Fury to join his Avengers initiative.

Natasha was speechless. From assassin to an Avenger; that was one dazzling change. Things had changed for the better, and she couldn't miss the fact that Steve wasn't the same than the one from her former reality. He was more serene, less tormented, taking his strength from living a new life in the future wih Bucky in his side. She had thought of leaving him stay in the past so he wouldn't have to mourn the loss of his best friend, but never had she considered the possibility of bringing Bucky over with him to spare him what would have been Steve's greatest loss in life.

'You're the one who saved us on Zola's train,' Steve spoke for the first time. He looked at her with so much intensity, a mix of realization, gratitude and other emotions she couldn't quite identify.

'It seemed pretty clear to me she rescued Barnes, actually,' Stark commented with a teasing smirk. 'Am I the only one who paid attention to the bedtime story?'

'Nope,' Clint chimed in. 'I heard it too. Loud and clear.'

She hadn't spent an hour yet in this new reality but she could already tell who the snark circulated between. Not that it surprised her.

'I knew you had a connection with Natalie Rushman,' Bucky said, brushing his teammates' teasing away. 'It was unmissable for the both of us,' he continued pointing to Steve and himself, 'Steve sort of dropped the idea but I personally concluded you two were related but that you just didn't want to share any information from your personal life…Although, now I understand better why you genuinely seemed to believe your own lie.'

Natasha wished she could remember but the memories from this new reality were still non-existent.

'I was not supposed to alter the past more than what I already planned to do. Thor, Bruce and Tony were very clear on that point,' she said.

The three men mentioned nodded, approving this opinion was indeed one they shared with their alternate selves.

Technical questions followed.

'What was the time travel like?' Bruce asked.

'Like watching a film moving backwards and in high speed,' she answered.

'How did you know how to access and move the HYDRA train without leaving any clues behind?' Tony asked.

'Please,' she answered with a smirk. The question nearly hur her ego. 'I studied all the plans and data that I needed to know before traveling to 1942.'

'How did you financially sustain yourself there for two months?' Clint inquired.

'Fury had given me an address where I would get money and a place to stay in.'

'How come we've got no record of you in the forties?' Thor asked.

'I made sure to stay under radar. I avoided cameras like plague,' she explained. She did, actually, so many times. She had underestimated the number of cameras you could find in the music and dance venues of a Captain America show.

'Was Captain's USO costume as ludicrous as it looked?' Stark asked.

She snorted. 'About that,' she started with a playful look.

They all smiled and the conversation went on for a good part of the night.

Later that night, Natasha was standing by the large windows of her bedroom, watching over the city of lights spreading over to the horizon. She was familiar with every detail of it and felt calm fall over her as she progressively realized she was back home, finally acknowledging the fact that her mission was complete and a full success. Not only had she saved Steve and Bucky but she had improved the future by not influencing Steve's personal journey.

She found out there were things that couldn't be changed, though. Howard Stark passed away nearly a year after the false car accident that should have originally killed him but never happened since there was no Winter Soldier. A heart attack, Tony had mentioned. His wife died a couple of years later from an undiagnosed cancer.

As for her new memories, the situation started to shift, as she slowly began to remember details from her new reality. The memories were still foggy, blurry, but she could tell it was a matter of time before she would know all about this new reality as if it was hers. And it was. It was still a complex concept but she knew she would have to come to realize that this new future she had actively taken part in changing, was now just as hers as the former one.

Soon she would have to let go of the latter and let I drift into oblivion, where it truly belonged now.

She was taken out of her daydream by a knock at her door and invited the person to come in.

'I thought you would be asleep,' she heard a voice say softly behind as Steve's standing figure reflected on the window in front of her.

'I couldn't sleep,' she answered, still looking through the window then eventually turned to look at him. Truth was she wouldn't have been able to find sleep until this conversation happened.

'You were so quiet, there,' she said, standing across the room, dreading what the outcome of the talk would be.

He looked at her closely, quietly but looking understanding.

'All the pieces were coming back together,' he started with a gentle voice, stepping up towards her. 'And to be honest, all the things that came to my mind were things that had to wait until we were alone.'

She looked at him, hopeful and uncertain.

He stepped forwards again until they were only a one foot apart.

He raised his hand and brushed the red lock of hair that near her eye with his fingers.

'Is it really you?' he asked, eager to make sure all this was true before going further in the discussion.

She closed her eyes and nodded.

'And you did all this to save Bucky?' he whispered.

She looked up into his eyes and found a storm of emotions in them.

'I did all this for _you_ ,' she murmured back. Saving him, saving Bucky so his mind would find peace; it all served the same unique purpose (although she found great pride in saving the life of someone who had become aa friend).

A genuine, happy smile burst out to his lips.

'I thought I would never see you again,' he whispered, stroking her cheek. 'When they told me they had lost the drawing, I thought I had lost you forever. No photograph, no portrait, no data, you only existed in my memory. It crushed me. And then I met Natasha,' he started. 'She looked just like you: the same features, the same laugh, the same humor and determination, the same strength. Every time I looked at her, I saw you. It was both a gift and a curse.'

He paused as his thumb traced circles on her cheekbone.

'And now I realize…I never lost you,' he murmured. 'You were there all along. You were there for me in the moments of my life I needed someone the most.'

'It was not supposed to happen that way, though. I was supposed to remain a replaceable acquaintance…' she said. 'Just a blast from the past that you would forget about just as quickly.'

It made him laugh. 'Well, good luck with that,' he uttered with a smirk. 'You turned my world upside down the minute you walked in it.'

She smiled and stepped closer until she felt his racing heart resonate against her chest.

'I told you I would find my way back to you,' she reminded him, reaching for his face.

He nodded. 'It was so long ago,' he murmured.

She smiled.

'For me, it was barely five days ago,' she whispered back.

He leaned in, dove his blue eyes into hers until she felt like they reached her soul, then he kissed her. First a simple kiss, then a lingering and eager one. His kiss said everything, it thanked her infinitely for her boundless dedication, asked for forgiveness for doubting she would ever come back, burst out his happiness to having her back, confessed feelings he had been carrying in silence for seventy years.

She kissed him back with the same passion as she relished the undeniable truth that Steve was alive and completely, willingly hers.

He held her waist beween his strong hands and scooped her up, grunting against her mouth as she cluched her megs aroun him. He carried her towards the bed and swiftly laid her down on the mattress, lying on top of her.

She chuckled lightly and broke the kiss.

'What happened to the Steve I knew?' she asked amusingly.

He eyed her longingly, his pupils dilated, lusting after her and every inch of her body.

'He met you,' he whispered with a hoarse voice then captured her lips again. His mouth then trailed heated kisses down her neck, devouring her skin ardently and unapologetically as she felt her whole body set in fire under his touch.

Later that night, as they lied naked in the bed next to each other, they chatted for long hours, catching up with time. She listened to the rest of his adventures with the Howling Commandos like she used to back in 1942 and giggled together as he mentioned all the funny details of the dragging investigation on the mysterious intruder of the train.

She found Steve was now somewhere between naïve and innocent Steve from 1942 and Steve from her original future. He was just...happy, whole. And it only hit her now that when Steve had told her he felt whole, he hadn't meant as being Captain America and having Bucky, he had meant as Captain America, having Bucky and having her. Now that he puzzle was complete, Steve felt he was in he right place again.

'You made the right choice,' he spoke softly, looking her deep in the eye. 'Waking up in this new century was the right thing to do for everyone.'

Her pupils trembled. 'Do you mean that?' she asked. 'It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to take.'

He slid his fingertips up her naked arm to her face.

'It was a rough transition but now I understand why it was worth it,' he paused, staring at her skin. He then looked at her and smiled. 'And somebody once said that the price of freedom was high.'

She smiled. 'Actually, you said that.'

They laughed together then he leaned closer to kiss her.

She slipped her arm out from under the sheet to hold the back of his neck when a detail caught her attention. She pushed the sheet away and looked at her stomach, gawping.

'What is it?' Steve asked.

She brushed her fingertips on the spot above her hipbone.

'I used to have a scar here,' she commented, staring at her immaculate skin.

Steve was completely oblivious of it, and how could he know not?

'Tell me about it,' he asked.

'A bullet wound during one of my missions. The shooter 's job was to eliminate the man I was protecting. He shot him down right through me.'

She kept staring in awe at the absence of an gunshot on her stomach. 'I had it for so long. It became part of me.'

'Who was the shooter?' Steve asked, although he seemed to have already figured it out.

She diverted her gaze from her bare skin and glanced at him.

'The Winter Soldier,' she answered. He acknowledged her answer gravely and she saw he hurt in his eye just a the thought of his best friend being the ruthless assassin she described. He then appreciated the fact she had not called him by his name. It had taken her some time to understand it, but she now knew Bucky and this killer were two different people. 'It's officially a ghost story, now,' she added as a reminder, smiling at him to comfort him. The scar was gone with the Winter Soldier, forever.

Steve smiled and pecked her mouth with a brief, tender kiss. He then went down and gently pressed his lips on the empty spot on her stomach. She reached and squeezed one tuff of his hair between her fingers as she felt something akin to a rush of electricity go through her entire body, and closed her eyes, relishing the moment. His full lips pulled apart and she felt his hot breath brush against skin, making it raise with goosebumps.

'Now I have all the time in the world to thank you for it,' he said, resting his chin on her stomach and looking at her. His eyes seemed to make the solemn promise to worship her the way every fibre in his body told him she deserved.

'Steve Rogers, you're too dramatic,' she said with a playful smirk on.

Captain America had always been the Avenger and the hero she had the deepest respect for, Steve the person she esteemed the most and who had helped her reignite the heroic spark within she thought had been snuffed out for good years ago. And here this man, whom she had always held in high regard, was looking up to her unconditionally.

He laughed with her then went on to express all his gratitude and the whole of his adamant admiration for her for the rest of the night.


	13. Sequel!

Hey everyone! I. AM. BACK...with a sequel!

www. fan fiction s/11959147/1/A-Bolt-from-the-Blue

It is called _A Bolt from the Blue_ and the story takes places in our time and focuses on Steve's POV. So if JaBftP left you wondering how Steve would react when he'd meet Natasha for the first time, how Bucky woud fit in in this decade (and secondarily how he would react when he meets Natasha), then go check it out!


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